A Measure of Treasure
by Commander Zucchini
Summary: 100 Themes Challenge as applied to Treasure Planet. From Pre-Voyage to Post-Rebuilding of the Inn, from Amelia to Zoff, nothing is excluded, no one is exempt. Well, pending author's laziness. Now up: "Mirror"; When Silver looked at Jim, he felt as though he was looking in a mirror.
1. 001 Introduction

A/N: So I got tired of reading fanfiction and decided to write my own. There aren't enough themed fics on here as one might think, so I'm adding to the collection. A word of warning, I usually never finish my fics, I just get bored. We'll see how long I can keep this going, though.

Prompt list created by AngieChild of deviantART. Used as "Variation 1" on 100ThemesChallenge's listing.

I do not own Treasure Planet, its characters, its places, its music, etc, etc, etc.

* * *

001. Introduction

The first thing that James Hawkins notices about the Interstellar Academy is not its size, not its elegance, not even its students. No, the first thing he notices is that they have really nice automatic toilets.

Having spent the better part of ten minutes in a stall relieving his nauseated guts out, Jim regrets not taking the ginger pills that his mother offered him before he left Montressor.

Oh, don't get me wrong, Jim doesn't easily get motion sickness. Which is why he adamantly refused the pills in the first place. He's a solar surfer, for crying out loud! He was _born_ to be a spacer, it's in his blood! But what he wasn't counting on was the absolutely jam-packed transport, so much so that he was unable to lift his hand to scratch his nose, or for that matter, cover it. He'd been squeezed against some creature that was obviously of the sort that didn't believe in deodorant, and from the stench, it probably didn't believe in bathing, either.

So the limited freedom, the permeating smells, and an hour and a half trip from the Odyssian Spaceport brought Jim sprinting past the Dean of Men (who had, in fact, come to personally greet the boy his schoolfellow Captain Amelia Smollet had so generously praised) and dashing to the restrooms.

Upon returning to the main entrance, Jim battles the burning shame rising in his face and stands up straight and tall, even saluting for extra measure, to save what chances he has left of making a good first impression.

"You know, Mr. Hawkins, I must say that with that resolve and determination of yours, you'll turn out to be a fine spacer indeed," the Dean of Men smiles.

"W-What?" Jim sputters. Is this guy being sarcastic? Great, now he's already on his loser list. So much for a smooth introduction. Captain Amelia had said that was key with Mr. Admiral. Though he was a good guy overall, he didn't tolerate nonsense (even less than the Captain, shockingly), and it took a good amount of time and effort to prove yourself to him. This just put a good dent in his record for sure.

"Well, you see, most cadets never even make it as far as the front steps." He stares pointedly at a few green faced boys standing over by the bushes. "I'm impressed you even found the men's room as quick as you did."

"Uh, thanks," Jim says, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. But inside, he's doing backflips on his solar surfer.

For once, the school year is off to a good start for him.

* * *

A/N: You know, as soon as I finished, I was sad to realize that I'm not gonna continue this story of Jim and the Academy. Well, relieved also, I can't put that much effort into fanfiction. (Are you kidding? New characters, new environment? Those who've done it deserve props, but I am not gonna hurt myself trying.) But I might revisit this vein. It was fun. Betcha wanna know how Mr. Admiral knows the Captain, huh? As a matter of fact, so do I . . .

Review, and you may find out.


	2. 012 Insanity

Unfortunately, I do not own Treasure Planet

* * *

012. Insanity

Doctor Delbert Doppler completed his undergraduate schooling of a double major in Chemistry and Physics in three years, his masters in Observational and Theoretical Astrophysics in one and a half, his masters in Nucleosynthesis and Astrochemistry in two, and his doctorate in Extragalactic Astrophysics in three. In all of his nineteen semesters, he's never been taught what to do in this situation.

The situation being stranded on a planet no one else in the entire universe knows the location of, let alone knows exists, reduced to running and hiding out in the bryophyte-covered-sorry-excuse-for-a-home of an outdated, obsolete, out-of-his-mind and off-his-rocker bioelectric navigational bot, hiding from pirates, no less, who'd hoodwinked _him_ into believing that they were actually an outstanding and phenomenal crew who had even served on the ship of the head of the Royal Navy, who were really only bloodthirsty and gold-hungry buccaneers and looters who obviously had no qualms whatsoever of blowing them to smithereens, and now placing his life into the hands of a boy barely fifteen who's been on probation for a quarter of his lifetime, trusting him and his less than exemplary sidekicks to bring back a little golden trinket that very likely is their only key to survival, leaving him alone to guard a woman, well, Felinid, who has sustained heavy injury and very possibly a concussion, who is delirious and delusional, who is now asking him-

Asking him.

"Oh, oh, I'm so sorry, Captain, what was that you said?" Delbert stumbles out of his rambling thoughts to focus on his infirm patient of sorts.

"I was merely wondering if you found me, well, you know . . . if perhaps I may sometimes come across to you as . . . no, no, that won't do," she falters in an uncharacteristic way and mutters incoherently to herself. Suddenly, she stops. With a determination in her eye, she looks up at the Doctor and demands-

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

Honestly, of all the possible questions that were going through the good Doctor's mind, this was not one of them.

"Ah, come again?"

"Do you think I'm crazy?" she asks with even more seriousness and force, if that's possible.

"Well, I . . . to tell the truth, I've never considered that, well no, I suppose I have, but no, I don't know . . . why are you asking me?" Delbert finally settles on answering her question with a question of his own. One of the very best of maneuvers when a man such as himself is dealing with a woman such as herself.

"Oh, I know you must," she sighs, ignoring his question. "Please, every being in this galaxy thinks I am, and I suppose everyone else is just waiting for it to be confirmed. My own mother thinks I'm mad, and Arrow knew it for a fact."

Delbert stares, dumbstruck.

"Captain, with all due respect, if that's what's on your mind now, despite everything that has just happened, not including what could potentially happen, I think that you're absolutely insane."

* * *

A/N: Want to know why Captain was thinking that? Well, she's a woman, and you know, women be crazy sometimes, yah? She really probably just wanted to hear herself talk. Anyway, thanks for the 2 reviews. Though small, they're encouraging. [=

P.S. Thanks to captainameliagirl for correcting me; Amelia is a Felinid, not a Felid. I have made the appropriate adjustments. [=


	3. 036 Precious Treasure

Sometimes I wish I owned Treasure Planet. Other times, I'm glad I don't. I mean, come on, it blew up.

* * *

036. Precious Treasure

Long John Silver has devoted his entire life to finding Flint's trove.

It's not as if Silver really needs Flint's gold. In all honesty, Silver can just go and loot some ships himself. He's got the crew; though a bit clumsy and rough around the edges, they're good boys. And he's definitely got the skill to pull it off. But what's calling him is the adventure, what's beckoning is the danger. For him, it's more than just a bedtime story. It's more than a myth. It's a mystery, waiting to be solved. A challenge, waiting to be met. The real treasure is not so much the gold as it is the need to prove that he can actually find it. To prove his worth to his long dead parents, to show those unbelieving teachers and ridiculing schoolmates that he _can_ do it. And so often, he's come so close to getting his hands on that map. But it always eludes his grasp.

Until now.

"Alright, boys, let's move out!" Silver growls at his renegade crew and they give a collective shout in reply.

Having chased that blasted ship of Bones' for a good two weeks now (and hunting him down for even longer than that) Silver is thinking it's about blooming time they've caught that dodgy old dog (or perhaps tortoise is more accurate) and give im what he's got comin.

And, of course, take what needs to be taken.

It's been a long ten years on this guy's trail.

And, though he hates to admit it, Silver had just about given up.

But now, oh yes, now the moment has finally arrived. The chance is his at last. Old Billy Bones can't run forever, it's only a matter of time before Silver catches up. And this is that time.

After blasting the door down with gusto, he follows Crex and Verne inside the humble little inn that Bones tried to find refuge in.

Long John Silver is relishing this moment.

Well, he relishes it for a good five seconds before he realizes that the map isn't there.

In angry disbelief, Silver exclaims, "Where is it?!"

"It's got to be here somewhere!" Verne is hanging from the ceiling by one suction cupped appendage, peering into a light fixture. Grewnge has proceeded to kick down the kitchen doors, only to realize that they are actually swinging doors. They smack him in the face.

"Find it!"

But Silver already has a sinking feeling. Billy Bones was dead, and his little chest open-no map inside. As his crew continues to tear the Benbow Inn apart, Silver is already developing Plan B.

"Somebody has that map. We're gonna find out who it is."

And find out he did.

Not two days later, Silver gets word from some well-informed sources that someone is looking for a crew. And not just for any regular voyage, either. The financier isn't giving too many details about the trip, but that alone tells Silver all he needs to know.

After sending a few correspondence escrolls (and a good deal of false paperwork exchanged), Silver finds himself aboard the RLS Legacy. This way, it's perhaps even better; all he needs to do is cook (which is what Silver does best, next to swashbuckling). All of the charting and navigating and commanding is taken care of. It's like a paid vacation! And to top it all off . . . Treasure Planet is only a boat ride away. Call it a Christmas bonus.


	4. 038 Abandoned

A/N: Wow, thanks so much for the reviews! I'm so flattered. Just a warning, this one is not only short, but it's sad. Not a funny bone in the whole thing. It actually depressed me. So much so that I couldn't continue. So I hope you might marginally enjoy this one. Thanks again for the reviews (:

* * *

038. Abandoned

Sarah doesn't know how it's come to this. She's done everything she possibly could and more to ensure that her family is happy.

But they're not.

Oh, far from it.

She almost wishes she can shout at her retreating husband and beg him to take their son, because it would just crush Jim's heart to watch him go.

But that won't do. Leland didn't know what to do with the boy at home, how could he take care of him out there, wherever he was going? And Sarah loves her son with all her heart, she doesn't think she could possibly bear to see him go, too.

While she's still in shock at the suddenness of all this (she was asking him if he wanted butter or Zarparian jam on his toast, for crying out loud!), Sarah Hawkins is thanking her lucky stars that she has her son. Though they've been abandoned, they're still together.

At this thought, she begins to cry. Whether it's sorrow at losing her husband or relief at realizing that at least she still has Jim, she doesn't know.

But when Jim tears down the stairs, she finds that she can't bear to look up at him. She hears the front door open, but she knows that Leland is too far away now for Jim to catch up, and she knows he won't turn back now. Not even for his son.

She can't stop crying.


	5. 014 Smile

A/N: I felt I had to redeem myself after the last chapter. Hope this makes up for it. Takes place maybe a couple months or so after Abandoned. Thanks again for the reviews. Keep em coming (; They're the only reason I'm updating as fast as I am . . . ok, well, maybe I'm having a little bit of fun, too.

And I forgot to add a disclaimer to the last chap, so I'll put a double disclaimer on here.

I do not own Treasure Planet. I do not own Treasure Planet.

* * *

014. Smile

A bell clangs as the door is opened. Sarah Hawkins, much too occupied at the moment to greet the newcomer, is hurriedly clearing a table for a furry family of four to sit at and enjoy breakfast. The six eyed father rumbles his thanks and they all sit down (or in his case, crash) in their seats before viewing the menu. Sarah lets them know that she'll be back in a couple minutes to take their orders before she rushes to the kitchen to deposit an armload of dishes into the sink, where she will hopefully deal with them later.

She walks back out to find her friend Delbert Doppler still standing in the doorway, looking around the room. He nods and smiles when she catches his eye.

"Busy beehive, Sarah?" he asks as Sarah makes her way towards him.

"What gave it away, the packed house or the fact that I'm sweating?" Sarah sighs.

"Neither. You've got that exhausted look in your eyes," Delbert says softly.

Sarah sighs again. "Well, I can't complain. It pays the bills."

"Sarah, you know all you need to do is ask . . ." Delbert trails off. When Sarah shakes her head disapprovingly, Delbert picks up again, "No, Sarah, I am _serious._ I have far too much money at my disposal than is healthy. You have a son to take care of, at least take it for him." He finishes by pressing an envelope into her hands.

"Delbert! No, really, I can't," her face reddens and she hurriedly tries to put the offending paper back in his hands. He has shoved his hands in his pockets, however, and backs up a few steps. She sighs and resigns to losing this battle. He's a stubborn one.

"I really just came here to say hi and catch up a bit. But I see that you have your hands full, so unless you think I can be of any help, I should probably leave you to it," the good Doctor's hand is on the doorknob now.

"Well, actually, Delbert, if you're not busy . . . I could use the company. It's been a rough week."

Delbert smiles and follows Sarah as she clears off a table for him to sit at. "Let me take care of that, Sarah. You go ahead and take care of your customers." Sarah gives him a word of thanks and bustles off to her six eyed guests.

Gathering up the dishes in his arms, Delbert carefully makes his way to the kitchen. He can't imagine how Sarah manages it; there are millions of obstacles to maneuver around between his table and the kitchen doors. Just as he's breathing a sigh of relief at having made it safely past the jungle of tables and people, Delbert feels his nose itch.

_Oh no_, he thinks. _No, think of something! Cows! And grass! Or am I supposed to look at the light? _Delbert looks up, hoping to somehow think the oncoming sneeze away. _Oh, wait . . . no, light acts as a stimuli triggering the optic nerve into dilating the pupils and thus triggering the trigeminal nerve which triggers sternuatatio . . ._

"AAAAAAHHH-CHOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Delbert exudes a powerful "sternutation" and consequently drops all the dishes in his arms. Embarrassed, he hangs his head low as he stoops to gather the scattered things, avoiding all possible eye contact. But the silence is unbearable, and so he just _has_ to look up now . . .

Everyone is staring at him with large eyes, barely contained laughter, and a small amount of pity. He's almost too terrified to look at Sarah, who must be absolutely exasperated with him. Her work was hard enough without him barging in and making an extra mess for her to have to deal with. But when he chances a glance in her direction, he is surprised to find that she's _smiling_.

If he's correct, that's the first smile she's given him today.

And if he's right about that, he can probably safely say that's the first smile she's given all morning.

So, Delbert stands up straight and tall, though thoroughly embarrassed, he's completely satisfied in knowing that he at least gave Sarah something to smile about, though at his expense.

Turning, on his heel, he marches on his way to the kitchen doors.

And sneezes again.

* * *

A/N: Oh yes, I am having fun. And yeah, whenever I feel like I need to sneeze, if I think about cows and grass, it usually goes away. But that's an old thing from middle school, so it's really just a funny habit that I kinda laugh about now. It's not too hard to think a sneeze away . . . unless your name is Delbert Doppler. And, yes, I've been doing my research for a good deal of some of these chapters (character names, sternutations, etc). Google and Wikipedia should be included in the wonders of the world.


	6. 044 Two Roads

A/N: Thank you to Mila Ligaf for the lovely review. Much appreciated. (= This chapter takes place during the voyage. Is there any official statement for how long the trip was? Or shall we just speculate?

And, once again, I do not own Treasure Planet or anything therein.

* * *

044. Two Roads

"Perhaps we should take this path here . . . " Doctor Doppler says as he drags his finger across a map of their voyage.

"No, no, Doctor, that'll never do. That route is far too tedious. This way is much quicker and straightforward," Captain Amelia replies as she swipes a manicured claw along another section of the map.

"Quick and straightforward it may be, but much less reliable. If I may, Captain, there's not much telling what to expect from this area," he taps a finger on the spot the Captain had pointed out, "at this time of the year. This alternate route here is at least consistently stable."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to argue with you there, Doctor. Do you recall the Fourth Star of the Flying Corridor solar flare incident as of two years ago? Induced currents causing power system voltage irregularities and the like . . ."

Doctor Doppler sighed. Here this woman was trying to best him with her knowledge of stars. He was already impressed with the fact that she was a captain at her age (never mind her gender), her cleverness, and her knowledge thus far of the galaxy and all that comes with navigating therein. But this contention over what he, _Doctor Doppler_, knew for a _fact . . _well, needless to say, he's not very impressed at all.

"That was two years ago, Captain. And it's hardly an issue now. To tell the truth, I'm more worried about the chances of asteroids and even the star Pellucid . . ."

"Thank you for your concern, Doctor," the Captain says as she begins rolling up the map.

"B-b-but, Captain! I understand that you may have crazy . . . cr - cra - brave! - bravery, but this is not really an issue that I feel comfortable with-"

"Thank you for your help, Doctor. You are dismissed," the Captain is giving him an icy stare. She didn't miss his Freudian slip.

Later that evening, Captain Amelia meets with Mr. Turnbuckle and Mr. Arrow to discuss their course. They agree that it is the much preferable of the two roads that lie ahead.

The Captain briefly outlines what she and the Doctor concluded (well, mostly she), "This one does have its uncertainties, but then that one there is just too far out of the way. If we make it through without any hiccup, I believe we'll make good time for the rest of the voyage. It's been a month already, and I am not looking forward to extending it any longer than necessary."

"Uncertainties, such as?" Mr. Arrow looks up at the Captain.

"Well, the Doctor was merely mentioning that it's not the most reliable of routes at this time of the year, but I don't believe that it's of any consequence. The chances of something actually happening are perhaps one in a hundred, but not any risks that we are not capable of handling," the Captain says with a slight huff.

Arrow gives a small smile. If he didn't know any better, he would say something along the lines of "sourpuss at losing an argument with their navigator." Because judging from her expression and headstrong attitude, she lost the argument. Perhaps only internally, since it appears that she did win the battle. They are, after all, going her way. So, putting off the amusing thoughts, Arrow simply concludes their meeting with, "However the Captain sees fit."


	7. 096 In the Storm

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. Don't stop! Seriously, I want to know what you think. Improvements, suggestions? Anything. Well, this one got a bit deep out of nowhere.

I don't own Treasure Planet.

* * *

096. In the Storm

There's a soft knock on the door.

"Come in, Doctor," the Captain says, not even bothering to glance up from her papers.

The door opens about as slowly as the Doctor is awkward.

Which means, really slow.

"How did you know it was me?" the Canid shuffles in and softly shuts the door behind him.

"Please, Doctor. No one else on this entire ship is as timid as you are. I can't imagine anyone else who would knock on a door in such a fashion," the Captain now looks up at the Doctor and raises a slender eyebrow. "How may I help you?"

"Well, ah . . . I just, I just wanted to say that . . . well . . ."

The Captain is surprisingly patient. She folds her hands together as she waits for the Doctor to sum up his thoughts.

"I apologize," the Doctor says quietly.

"I thought that's what you were here for," the Captain nods.

The Doctor looks up sharply. Here he was trying to be humble and polite, and she's telling him she _expected_ it! But before he can say a word in protest she continues, "I apologize as well."

Oh. Well, now, he didn't expect this.

"I believe I may have been too harsh on you, Doctor. I really do appreciate all of the effort that you've been putting into navigating this voyage. It's not an easy task, and your knowledge has proven to be quite useful. I do not apologize for not choosing to take your proposed route, but I am sorry for the way in which I declined it. So," the Captain rises and extends her hand over the desk to the Doctor. "Forgiven?"

"Ah, yes," the Doctor shakes her hand delicately. He puts his hands in his pockets and then gives a faint smile. "Well, then, I suppose I'll be on my way-"

Suddenly, he is rocketing backward off of the ground and into the wall.

"What in the galaxy?"

The floor is rocking back and forth and it takes the Doctor a moment to realize that the _ship_ is moving.

The Captain is already outside, and the Doctor follows her to the deck, whipping out his spyglass as he runs. There's a bright light off the port bow, and the Doctor trains his spyglass on it. With a gasp he exclaims, "The star Pellucid . . . it's gone supernova!"

Ever one step ahead, the Captain is dashing off towards the helm, shouting for Mr. Turnbuckle to take evasive action.

The Doctor resolves not to say "I told you so." That is, assuming he's alive after this.

Ever one step behind, the Doctor follows after the Captain. Well, you can't blame him, not only is this spacing business a bit foreign to him, but he's never had to deal with evading a supernova before, so he's not entirely sure of what to do.

He's sorely tempted to take out his notebook and jot down a few notes. It really is a glorious sight.

"All hands, fasten your lifelines!" Mr. Arrow bellows.

But the Doctor is too busy taking notes (in his mind, of course, because if the star didn't kill him, the Captain surely would). Besides, to die in a supernova? If that's not a noble death for an astrophysicist, then . . .

Another wave rocks the ship.

Well, time to get to business.

"Doctor, any information you could offer would be much appreciated!" the Captain shouts over the noise. If he's new to spacing, she's just as new to stars exploding without warning.

The Doctor studies the ship's electronic readings and statistics, furiously trying to match up the information he sees on the screens with what information he has in his head.

Type I supernovae are caused by a star accumulating matter from a nearby neighbor . . . no, Pellucid didn't have any neighbor near enough for it to accumulate any matter for a runaway nuclear reaction to ignite. That means it must be Type II, where the star runs out of nuclear fuel and collapses under its own gravity.

But this is terrible, because Pellucid is an absolutely massive star, and generally when stars as massive as this go supernova, they don't leave behind a star, but a . . .

"It's devolving into a black hole!"

A powerful wave of energy has apparently gotten the best of Mr. Turnbuckle. But the Captain is not so easily deterred and rushes over to assume his post. These unpredictable waves _are_ a bit annoying, though, and she says as much.

But the Doctor is seeming to think otherwise at the instrument panel.

They're not at all random.

After realizing this fact and relaying his observations to the Captain, it looks like they have a plan.

"All sails secured, Captain!" Mr. Arrow shouts up.

"Good man! Now, release them immediately!" is her prompt reply.

Arrow can't tell if the near-insane grin that graces her features is indicative of the fact that she has a plan or if she really has just gone mad. But, however the Captain sees fit, aye? "Aye, Captain!"

"Captain, if we're going to be riding that wave . . ." the Doctor begins.

"Mr. Hawkins! Make sure all lifelines are secured, good and tight!"

One step ahead.

Well, that was more like beside.

There's a dismayed scream, and it surely does sound like Arrow, but the Captain shakes it off and focuses all attention to the task at hand. He's more than capable of taking care of himself.

The Doctor looks up from his screens. "Captain! The last wave! Here it comes!"

As she warns the crew to hold on to their lifelines, the Doctor is suddenly feeling very vulnerable without one. He grips the edges of the instrument panel with all his might.

There's a brief moment where they're being sucked into oblivion.

There's no sound. No light. No warmth.

Delbert's blood runs cold.

If this is the end . . . if they somehow didn't make it out of this . . . is he happy? Is he satisfied? If he dies now, can he say that his life was complete?

And the answer is no.

Not by a long shot.

Suddenly, there's an burst of heat, light and sound. The solar sails immediately absorb the energy given off by the wave and the ship jets off, with an added propulsion of the explosion behind them.

The Doctor is propelled into a corner. He finds himself hopelessly tangled in rope, but he can't bring himself to care too much.

He's alive.

He has never been more appreciative of that fact.

* * *

A/N: The ending is nothing like I was expecting myself to write. But I wrote it and I'm leaving it. Because I think it's worth leaving in. Are you happy? Are you satisfied? What are you doing with your life? Right now, I'm writing fanfiction, but that's not what I ultimately want to do in life. So maybe I've crossed bounds into the personal, but you can ignore it if you choose. It's really just a rhetorical question. It's also almost 4 in the morning. Excuse me.

Don't forget to review. I mean it.


	8. 028 Sorrow

A/N: In sequence with "Two Roads" and "In the Storm." The Captain must come to terms with Arrow's death.

Treasure Planet belongs to Disney.

* * *

028. Sorrow

"I'm afraid Mr. Arrow has been lost," the tricorn hat of the Legacy's first mate is placed into the Captain's hands. "His lifeline was not secured."

She hears Arrow's scream.

The Captain awakens. Arrow's voice is still ringing in her ears. She shudders and rises from her cot. This is the fifth time she's woken up from a nightmare tonight. She's giving up on getting any rest.

Arrow.

He'd been the finest of spacers, the best of friends, he'd been a brother . . . and now? He's gone.

She pushes the thoughts from her mind as she turns on the light. There's no sense dwelling on it. It will only make her more upset. And she can't have that. There's still a voyage to complete! If she starts mourning the loss of Arrow, it will never end!

An hour later, the Captain is sitting at her desk, fully dressed in her uniform and filling out some paperwork. A death on a voyage calls for much paperwork indeed.

_First name of Officer_: Samuel. _Last name of Officer_: Arrow. _MI_: P. _Time of Death_: Approx. 1800 hours._ Date of Death_: 11 July 6012 _Cause of Death_: Unsecured lifeline . . .

Now, did she really believe that?

James Hawkins might be young, might be troubled, might be a bit rough around the edges, but he was a good boy. And he knew his stuff. There was a reason she asked _him_ to ensure the lifelines were secure.

But Scroop? He didn't give off any signs of lying, but then again, he doesn't seem like the type to have any difficulties with that. She didn't like him to begin with.

And she knew that he didn't like Arrow.

Hm. Something to look into.

_Cause of Death_: Black hole.

Let's just leave it at that.

The time is 2:18 A.M.

There's a soft knock on the door.

Startled, the Captain looks up. It's obvious as to who it is, no one is as easy to read as the Doctor, but _at this hour_?

"Come in, Doctor," the Captain says, studying the door carefully.

The Doctor steps in cautiously. "Good evening-ah, morning, Captain," he greets quietly.

"Likewise. May I help you, sir?" the Captain leans back in her chair, allowing an inquisitive look to cross her features.

"Well, I was merely . . . well, you see, I happened to be on lookout tonight, and I saw that your light was on. I just wanted to be sure that you . . . well, to see if you were . . ." the Doctor seems unable to finish.

"Are you inquiring after my well-being, Doctor?" the Captain fights back a small smile.

"Well . . . I suppose after the events . . . yes, I suppose I am," the Doctor resigns, distressed that he can never voice his thoughts, but relieved the Captain seems to be able to do so for him.

The Captain looks down. Here she was trying to ignore all emotional thoughts, and here the Doctor was bringing them up. Well, it has to get done sometime.

But not now.

"Doctor, I truly appreciate your concern, but-"

"You don't need to lie to me," the Doctor interrupts.

"Excuse me?" She is this close to tossing him after Arrow.

"I mean it. Don't tell me that you're fine, because I know you're not. Mr. Arrow's death hurts me, I can only imagine what it does to you."

The Captain closes her eyes. This is too much. "I'm trying not to think about it," she admits quietly.

"You'll never get over it that way. Captain, I know this isn't exactly the same, but . . . I lost my parents when I was younger. And I can tell you, I tried to do exactly what you are trying to do now. And it wasn't until I finally sat down and _thought_ about it and _fought _about it with myself that I could . . . continue with my life. The pain never fully goes away, but it's less."

The Captain never once opens her eyes. But she crosses her arms on her desk and lays her head down upon them.

She stays like that for a long time.

And she allows herself to grieve.

* * *

The smell of coffee is what awakens her. She raises her head to find James already seated while the Doctor is shutting the door before coming to set down a tray with two cups of coffee.

There used to be three. On previous mornings, they would have their meetings in the stateroom and each of them (save Jim) had their cup of coffee. Two were regular with cream and two sugars. One was black. For Arrow.

But the Captain shakes her head and smiles sadly. There are only two cups. And there will only be two.

Aye, it hurts, but they must carry on, after all.

She takes her cup of coffee gratefully and is ready to begin their meeting.

Treasure Planet is waiting.


	9. 016 Questioning

"He's failing at school . . ."

Treasure Planet belongs to Disney.

* * *

"James, please see me after class."

Jim looks up sharply at his Galactic Studies teacher. What had he done wrong this time? He sighs and nods in acknowledgment. Great. First his Montressan History teacher chewed him out in front of the whole class for failing the homework assignment . . . but come on, can he help it if it's so boring? So, maybe history just isn't his thing. Mr. Gregorian doesn't need to make a spectacle about it . . . droning on and on about how important it is to do your reading and know your planet's history and clean your room and do your homework on time and not slack off and get good grades and end up with a good paying job like him and bore hundreds of kids to death.

And now Ms. Preguntas wants to talk to him, probably about his grades as well. Hey, at least she wasn't doing it in front of the whole class.

The class time passes slowly as one big dreadful hour before the bell rings and students start filing out to their next class. A couple guys smirk as they pass Jim on their way out. One's bluish, has spikes for hair and a couple extra arms. The other's got too many freaky looking eyes and a long tail. "Tough luck, ponytail," says the blue one, giving Jim's braid a little yank.

Jim reacts quickly, smacking the arm away from his head and shoving the guy in the chest. "Ya wanna say again, pointy?" Jim growls through clenched teeth.

"Boys, enough. Get going, I'm not writing late passes." Ms. Preguntas narrows her eyes at the scuffle. The two guys mutter and make their way out of the classroom, looking back and glaring at Jim as they go.

Jim sighs and throws his book bag over his shoulder before trudging to the teacher's desk.

"James, can I ask you a couple questions?"

"Shoot."

"What do you do for fun?"

Jim cocks his head slightly. Why in the world does she care? "Uh . . . solarsurf."

"Do you have any friends here at school?"

"Friends? You mean do I talk to anybody? No, not really." This conversation doesn't seem to be heading in a good direction.

"What about at home? Who do you talk to?"

"No one, really."

"Not even your mom?"

"My mom runs an inn. She's pretty busy. I mean, I help her out, so if that counts as talking-"

"What about your dad?"

Dad. Yeah, even if he was here, he wouldn't talk back. Just grunt and say "go play with your toys," or something. Jim looks up at Ms. Preguntas. "He left a couple years ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"It's not a big deal."

"James, I think it is," she's looking at him with concern. Like what his mom would do when he leaves the house to surf. He hates that look.

"Look, I'm saying it's not, ok? Why do you care, anyway?" Jim's getting sick of this little interview. Go ahead and visit the Benbow, why don't you?

"I care, Mr. Hawkins, because you are failing your classes and you don't seem to a Serpantid's tail."

"So? Do I have to care? Isn't it my life? I'll do what I want, if I make mistakes, that's on me." Jim's getting tired of this real quick. Nosy teacher.

"You should care. James, there are hundreds of kids who wish they had half the brains that you do. I've seen what you can do when you try, you are absolutely brilliant. But brilliance doesn't help if you don't care, if you're not putting any effort. The only reason I'm telling you all this is because I care, James. With a mind like yours, you can do incredible things. And I'd be sad to see you settle for something less."

Jim's got his arms crossed like he's just waiting for this to be done. Which is exactly what he's aiming for. But he's also taking in every word Ms. Preguntas is saying. He may not want to do anything about it yet, and he probably doesn't exactly know how, but he's definitely flattered by the fact that she thinks he's "brilliant," so he'll at least give it some thought.

"Sure. I'll think about it," Jim starts towards the door.

"Let me write you a pass first. Where are you heading now?" she pulls out a scrap of paper.

"It's fine, I have lunch now."

"Oh, well then plenty of time to think about this. And James, if you ever need any help, I'd only be happy to assist. Alright?"

"Right." He'll probably never take her up on that offer, but it's a touching gesture. No one but his mom and Doppler have done anything like this.

"Thanks for your time, James," Ms. Preguntas smiles kindly at him.

"Yeah, no prob. And . . . well, thanks," Jim gives a small smile in return and heads off to the cafeteria.


	10. 069 Annoyance

Thank you kindly for the reviews! I was so happy, so inspired, that I just had to finish this one and post it. (; But you see, that's what happens when people review. So please, by all means, do continue. Oh, and I Googled and Wikipedia-ed a ridiculous amount of British terms for this chapter. Not too many were used, but it was a ton of fun. Still hoping to use a few of them in the future. :D

And I am in complete denial that they named the Captain what they did. For me, she's Amelia Smollet and that's that.

This one is all dialogue.

Treasure Planet belongs to Disney.

* * *

069. Annoyance; or, A Typical Exchange Between the Captain and Her First Mate

"Look, Sammy, don't be daft. By all means, this voyage has been an absolute catastrophic nightmare thus far. I'll have none of your 'silver lining' rubbish."

"If you insist. Although, Amy, I personally still believe it's not half as atrocious as you're describing-"

"And have you seen how those bobbins are handling my sails? At this rate, they won't be fit for rags by the time we return."

"I'll make sure to keep a good eye on that."

"Please do. And for crying out loud, I've never seen more of an ignominious slob than I have that . . . that . . . Moron character. And who is his cohort again? Oxy. Can you imagine a worse pair? They complement each other terribly. If one does a poor job, the other must go and make it dreadful. Worst ropers I've ever laid eyes on."

"I understand, Amy. Would you like a cuppa?"

"You know, I don't mind if I do. Spot of tea may be just what I need right now. I believe I may be getting more stressed out about this than necessary. But, blast it all, it's all so dreadfully annoying, I can't stand it anymore. I've never dealt with a worse crew. Unless you count the Navy. That was abominable. All those stuck-up cadets and divvy officers. But even compared with that, this is sixes and sevens! Ah, that's very good. Sammy, we'll have a gentleman out of you in no time if you can make a cuppa as grand as this."

"I'm flattered, but you give no credit to my tutor."

"Oho, now. Please, I'm simply fulfilling my duties as a friend. Oh, if you could get the door please, Samuel, I believe the boffin and his charge have finally decided to make an appearance."

"Are you sure? I haven't heard a thing."

"Hello, you're talking to a cat here."

"Of course. Why, good afternoon, Doctor, Mister Hawkins."

"Ah, good afternoon, Mister Arrow, Captain."

"Sup."

"Mister Hawkins, I wonder if that was an address or a declaration that you are wishing to eat. By all means, I'd think that you'd have had plenty of time to 'sup' considering the late hour of our meeting today."

"Er . . . Good afternoon, ma'am."

"That's more like it. Gentlemen, please have a seat. We have much to discuss today and too little time to discuss it. Let's get to business."


	11. 005 Seeking Solace

A/N: Again, thank you so much for the reviews! They're a pleasure to read! And yeah, honestly I couldn't _really_ picture Amelia calling Arrow "Sammy," but I thought it was so hilarious and irresistible I had to put it in anyway. (But I suppose I do imagine she's done so in jest, just to tease him.) And yes, I have done a good amount of research on British terms and more. Glad you noticed! [= I have toyed with the idea of writing a chapter story (as well as my own take on a Jim-meets-girl-his-age story . . . mwahaha) but I really can't make any promises. I'll be lucky to finish all 100 of these first!

* * *

005. Seeking Solace

The rush of air on his face, the wind whipping through his hair, the cool, crisp air filling his lungs.

It feels amazing.

He let's out a whoop of excitement, releasing all of his frustration and irritation and anger out into this escape.

Everything's a blur, everything but the clouds up above that he's racing towards, climbing upwards at an almost ninety degree angle.

And then he stops.

He lets off his foot from the motor.

He collapses the sail.

He lets go of everything that's holding him back.

And he allows himself to fall.

"He's a smart kid, but such a rebel." _Yeah, who cares what you think? I don't have to follow your rules. Let me do want I want!_

"That boy should know better than to waste his time surfing and doing nothing with his life." _I am doing something with my life. I'm gonna be an amazing surfer and one of the best engineers. Just wait, I'm gonna make you eat those words when I'm building your next solar galleon._

"He's cute, but he's such a jerk." _That's ok. You're ugly anyway._

"Don't even bother trying to talk to him. He's so rude."_ Well, obviously if I wanted to talk I'd start a conversation, now, wouldn't I?_

"The kid has zero respect. He's not even worth my time." _I don't want your stupid time! I just want respect! Stop treating me like I'm some stray cat and maybe I'll treat you like a human, too!_

The freefall is stripping every argument, every sneer, every hurt away. There's nothing but Jim and his solarsurfer. If only they could see him now.

The solarsurfer in his element.

He opens his eyes to find the ground approaching fast. He lifts the heel of his right foot, positioning it just above the motor to his board. He crouches low as he spins, his fingers finding the latch to his sail. And just before the board hits the earth-

The motor roars, the sail's blazing as it absorbs the light, he's mere inches above the ground, daring it to stop him.

But it can't.

Nothing can.

There's the faint sound of sirens behind him.

_Except that._

He _knew_ he should've gone to the Southern Canyons. These ones to the east were just too heavily patrolled. He growls in frustration as he cuts off the motor and lands, spinning in a one-eighty as he does so. The Bot Cops pull up quickly.

"You are being apprehended for operating a solar vehicle in a restricted area. Name, sir?"

"James Hawkins."

"Mister Hawking, we're going to have to request that you place your hand here to enable us to verify your identity," the bot holds out a small tablet.

"It's Hawk-INS. H-a-w-k-i-n-s. Handsome Ambiguous Wandering Kindling Independent Nonchalant Solarsurfer."

"Alright, Mister Awkins-"

"HAW-kins. Aitch! Handsome!"

"I thought he was joking," the tablet holding Bot Cop says to his partner.

The other one shrugs. "I did, too."

"Whatever!" Jim smacks his hand onto the tablet, allowing the little machine to document its imprint and identify him.

"Mister Hawkins, we do not have any records of you causing any sort of public trouble before, but I do see that you've been in detention quite a few times . . ."

"Hey, how do you have access to that!?"

"Nevertheless, as this is your first warning, you will only be given a fine of fifty monetary units."

"Only?!"

"Keep your skinny neck out of restricted areas, and we're all happy." The Bot Cop tears off a slip of paper that has printed . . . from its mouth. Who _designed_ these things? And whose idea was it to give them a personality, anyway? "We will escort you to the boundaries of the premises and you are expected to stay away and out of trouble. Got it?"

Jim takes the slip from the bot and shoves it in his pocket. "Yup."

Mom's gonna_ love_ this.

* * *

A/N: "Aitch" is how the letter "H" is pronounced, for those who didn't get it. And I did in fact go through a dictionary to find some appropriate words. I think I laughed out loud at "handsome" and was thus compelled to use it. Anyway, this is obviously from Jim's perspective as a troubled teen. Maybe late fourteen, early fifteen, right before he really hits trouble with the cops and probation and all. Hopefully will revisit this vein at least once more to resolve his issues. Cause honestly, I've been a teenager. Done that stuff. And I'd like to be a teacher one day and help kids like Jim. Can you tell?


	12. 034 Stars

034. Stars

The mop drops into the bucket with a satisfying _plunk_.

"Finally," Jim mutters as he leans against the side of the ship and surveys his handiwork. The deck is glistening with a healthy helping of soapy water, even shining here and there where the light of distant stars are shining down.

"Finally!" little Morph exclaims, shifting into a miniature Jim and leaning back against real Jim's shoulder.

"Haha. Yup. Looks good, doesn't it, buddy?" Jim gives a little smile.

"Looks good, looks good!" is the high pitched reply.

Jim closes his eyes and allows himself to relax a little. Swabbing the deck took the better part of the past hour, and his arms were sore. Even after a month of doing this twice a day, it's still tiring.

"Ya missed a spot."

Jim's eyes snap open and he finds Long John Silver standing in front of him, grinning.

"What? Where?" Jim's eyes are darting back and forth across the deck.

Silver points to some barrels a little ways down, under which the deck is most decidedly dry.

"C'mon, Silver, those things are _ridonkulously_ heavy. And I've _never_ mopped there!"

"All the same lad, yer gonna be moppin' it now."

"What did I do to deserve this?" Jim grumbles as he stalks off towards the barrels.

"Ya'd best watch yer yapper if ya don't want ta be givin' this deck anotha swabbin', boyo," Silver calls after him. "And if ya really want to know, it's per Cap'm's orders. Says that corner's gettin' to be a tad dusty, it is."

"Watch yer yapper, boyo!" Morph zings about Silver's head before giving him an affectionate nuzzle. But Silver isn't in the mood for playing tonight, so he gives his pet a glare that says all that it needs. Morph disappears into Jim's pocket.

Jim sighs as he begins to shove the barrels down a few feet along the deck. The sigh is transformed into a grunt as Jim is forced into using all of his upper body strength to move the thing even an inch. "What is _in_ these things, anyway?"

Silver gives a nonchalant shrug as he lumbers over to Jim. "Don't know, don't care. Maybe rocks. Maybe bodies." At Jim's horrified glance he gives a jolly laugh. "Only kiddin', Jimbo. 'Tis prob'ly only extra riggin' or tools." Silver gives the barrel a shove and it scoots easily down.

Jim crosses his arms. "You make it seem so easy."

"Ah, but it is, boyo!" Silver chortles at Jim's sulking look. "Chin up, lad. Wit' yer head . . . and yer arms." And with a wink and a final thrust, the barrels have all been moved, giving Jim access to the dry, unswabbed speck of deck.

"I can do chin ups," says Jim, rolling his eyes. He trudges off to retrieve the mop and bucket.

"Look 'ere, Jimbo. Things wouldn't be nearly as bad if ya didn't get so huffy 'bout it," Silver says softly as Jim is slapping down the mop. He makes no reply.

Silver's starting to think that maybe the boy didn't hear him when all of a sudden he growls, "Yeah? Why's that?"

The voice is one that Silver's not entirely used to hearing from him, and Silver looks up at Jim in shock and bewilderment. There's a grimace on the young man's face that is so hostile, almost venomous, that Silver is wondering if this is even the same Jim Hawkins that he knows. But he knows that look, that's for sure. It's one of hurt, betrayal, and bitterness, and Silver makes his mind up then and there to stop this train before it wrecks.

Like it did with him.

"Look, now, Mister Hawkins," Silver says, tearing the mop from Jim's hands with one cybernetic arm and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Firstly, I got ev'ry good reason ta make ya swab this deck another ten rounds _and_ send ya to bed widout supper. And secondly, I won't. Not cause yer a good boy with a bad past, not cause I like ya or I think yer overworked, cause I'm tellin' ya now, you haven't seen da meanin' of the word yet. No, it's cause you remind me of me, Jimbo, and I don't want you ta turn out like dis here cranky ole cyborg."

Jim looks up now, his eyes before being downcast and hardened, staring into the eyes of the "cranky ole cyborg." One eye is cold, metal, and almost looks as if it's analyzing his every move, down to the slightest facial twitch. The other is stern, yet warm, and boring into his own soul. Jim looks away, not really wanting to allow Silver to read him so easily.

"Don't make the same mistakes I made, boy. Don't let yerself get so worked up 'bout tings dat are out of yer control. T'ain't worth it. Maybe tings are hard, maybe the skies be dark, but dat only makes the stars shine brighter. But tis yer choice if yer gonna be an ordinary old planet or a star. Tink on dat one."

And Silver's walking off, leaving Jim to ponder what he meant.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all SO much for the kind reviews. :D I'm so touched. Glad I could amuse you all, I wasn't sure if that "ugly" line was tacky, honestly. And the JimxOC thing is just speculation at this point, no promises, and it definitely wouldn't be anything a fangirl would expect. (; And to tell the truth, I will need prayer, because while my heart goes out to them, I am actually terrified of teenagers! Lol. Getting there, though. I'm volunteering in my church to help lead a group of 5th and 6th graders (and I love them to death), so I'm on my way. But enough about me.

I almost forgot about the theme while I was writing this, so I had to try to tie it in quickly at the end. So if it seems a bit choppy or random or out of place, let me know. I might not change it, but at least I'll have a better idea for the future. =]

Thanks again for the reviews and for your support!


	13. 055 Waiting

055. Waiting

Three months is a long time to wait.

Well, if we're going to be accurate, it's really two and a half months (yet it feels much longer).

To be precise, seventy-nine days have passed.

Up to this very moment, it's been one thousand, nine hundred and nine hours, twenty-five minutes, and fifty-seven seconds.

Thirty minutes ago, Sarah Hawkins received word that the _RLS Legacy_ had finally docked in Spaceport Crescentia. She laughed, she cried, and she outright shouted in relief.

And now, here she is, standing in the spaceport, scanning the throngs and throngs of creatures and beasts and alien folk.

The wait is over.

The hours she's spent worrying, those moments of hopeless crying, the nights that she's spent up late into the wee hours of the morning-unable to sleep because of the constant fear that _maybe Jim won't come back_, maybe something terrible might happen like an attack by pirates or an asteroid collides with the ship or an abduction by aliens-it's all over.

Sarah can see the ship clearly enough, the _Legacy _stands tall and majestic and beautiful, commanding attention in the busy spaceport. But it's getting _to_ it that seems to be the problem. She looks about her, hoping to find some sort of leeway in the immense crowd. Finding an opening, she pushes through, ducking under the sweaty arms of one fellow, squeezing past the fine and delicate robes of another. She keeps turning and weaving through; after all this time waiting, she's not about to let some silly crowd get between her and her son.

She wonders if they really did manage to find Treasure Planet, after all. Maybe they're rich now, maybe her son's a hero, maybe things will change.

But honestly Sarah doesn't really care about any of that right now. All she wants is to see her son again. All she wants is to hold him in her arms, tell him how _proud_ she is of him, tell him how much she loves him. She's had a long time to think, and the more she thinks, the more she regrets not being the mother that she should be. Her mind brings up scores of instances in which she was wrong, or where she failed Jim somehow, or when she was just too busy to help him. She gives a small sigh. Well, there's no Benbow right now, so she can take the time that she has now to spend with him. Make up for times lost.

That is, if she can even _find _him.

There's a tap on her shoulder. She dares to hope as she turns around.

And she's not disappointed.

There's a young man standing in front of her, a young man very different from the reckless boy she said goodbye to only seventy-nine days ago. He's got an air of confidence about him, a spark of hope in his eye, and _is that stubble on his chin_?

Delighted beyond words, Sarah wraps her arms around her son.

Yes, finally, the wait is over, and she is very glad for it.

But when she looks at the transformed boy, this new _man_, in front of her, Sarah Hawkins is decided that it was very much worth the wait.


	14. 042 Standing Still

A/N: I took a little break. I read this book, Seraphina. Pretty amazing (though I needed a dictionary at least twice per chapter, no exaggeration. Lady did _too_ much research, though it did get the medieval effect she was going for). Reading through Behemoth now, sequel to Leviathan. Steampunk all the way. AND started my new job, nannying a three and a half year old kid. In addition to cashiering part time, I've been a bit busy. So, I'll try and not forget about this fic. But combined with my schedule and less and less ideas of what to write next, I am making no promises. And thank you so much for the . . . two reviews. What happened?! Guys, I love reading reviews as much as I love writing these! Don't stop! But I suppose Mila Ligaf's review made up for any lack. I loved it, thank you! [= And I _will_ write more for Steampunk TP (Mount Treasure) if anything (btw, I also have a deviantart where I post these and some artwork under the name thebonga). Anyway, after that little memoir of an author's note, this chapter is about as close to romance as I can get (which is also why a Jim meets OC fic from me would be something a bit different than one might expect). I am not a romance writer in the least.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review!

* * *

042. Standing Still

The Captain is standing quietly on the quarterdeck, surveying all the commotion taking place below. Her mouth is a grim line, whether it's because of the pirates who are now being escorted of her ship or from the pain that's sure to be tearing through the entirety of her left side, one can't be too sure, but Delbert Doppler would venture to say that it's both. Not to mention everything else that's happened on this voyage.

A mutiny and a few broken ribs are only the beginning.

Delbert sighs and shakes his head. Arriving back home is nothing at all like he thought it would be. He thought perhaps he'd come home with a little extra gold in his pocket, his thirst for adventure satisfied, Jim a happy, law-abiding boy, and life all good and swell, ready to live out the rest of his life in his old mansion while visiting the Benbow frequently.

And now the voyage is finally over. They found Treasure Planet, they found the gold, and they're back at Spaceport Crescentia, no richer than they started out, and with even less direction.

If anything, Delbert feels even less satisfied than when he'd started out.

And standing here on the deck of the _RLS Legacy_ (or what's left of it), Doctor Delbert Doppler comes to the realization that he has absolutely no barking idea of what to do now (no pun intended).

And one of the reasons happens to be staring down at him this very moment.

The Captain's mouth is now an upturned smirk. Delbert suddenly realizes that he's been staring at her for the past few minutes. He blushes and looks away.

The last of the pirates has been walked off the ship, but the deck is still abuzz with motion. The sails are being tied down, debris and what's left of supplies carried off, and a couple officers coming to question the Captain.

When Delbert looks back up at her, he can see the unspoken question in her eyes, as she looks at the approaching officers and then back at him. He smiles. If he knew anything about the Captain before, it was that she never asked for help. She never needed it. She was perfectly capable of handling everything on her own. But now . . . something's changed. And it's not so much the fact that she's _helpless_ that she's asking for help as much as she just . . . doesn't want to do it alone.

That's something Delbert can understand perfectly well.

So he walks up the stairs to the quaterdeck where the Captain's been standing still for the past fifteen minutes.

And they walk back down the stairs together.


	15. 052 Deep in Thought

Disclaimer: I've forgotten to put these up the past few times, but I've never forgotten that I never have, nor ever will, own Treasure Planet or anything therein.

* * *

052. Deep in Thought

The living room of the Doppler Mansion is well furnished; deep red plush couches rest on a soft carpet of an even deeper shade, a medium sized and elegantly carved wooden coffee table sits in their midst, a large fireplace is burning wood slowly, and stacks of books galore adorn close to every inch of walking space.

It's a bookworm's dream come true.

And a Naval Captain's nightmare.

Fortunately, however, the inner bookworm of Amelia won out over the ever-striving-for-perfection Captain, and she's now sitting in one very comfy couch, sipping a cup of tea, and lost in a book about the adventures of a gentleman traversing the entirety of the United Galactic Empire in a mere eighty days.

Amelia came down here because she couldn't sleep. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable (Delbert had gone through agonizing and amusing lengths to make sure of that). Her mind just wouldn't allow herself to relax. After all that she's been through in the past few months, it's understandable. Temporarily losing the _Legacy_ due to needed repairs (she feels like she's just been evicted), an inability to resume office as Captain (now she's unemployed), and invited to stay in the gigantic home of a Canid she hardly knows (so now she's a homeless, loafing freeloader) are only the tip of the iceberg.

It feels so good just to lose herself in this novel. Just for now. Real life is getting to be such a headache.

But Amelia has always been a fast reader, and she's reached the end of it far too soon. With a sigh, she closes the book and lays it gently down on the coffee table. And yet, she doesn't feel the slightest bit tired. So she rises from the couch to seek out yet another imaginary world in which to immerse herself, intentionally delaying the inevitable: reality.

She grabs the first semi-interesting cover she finds, and resumes her post on the couch, flipping the book open casually.

And she begins to read _Treasure Island._


	16. 065 Horror

A/N: Perhaps the title is enough. I'm actually surprised and horrified I wrote this. Lol. I meant it to be only humorous. It kinda took another turn. I am done, though. I spent long enough on this and I don't want to look at it anymore until it's uploaded. Once again, thanks for the reviews. They're a pleasure to read and I get that fuzzy feeling inside only an author can feel. And with the library books, I do the exact same thing. I had 25 books checked out last month, renewed them all at least twice, and really only read . . . well, let's not get into that. A good deal of them were for reference or language though. Mind you, this was an extreme scenario, not normal by any means. I'm not crazy. I think.

Treasure Planet belongs to Disney.

* * *

065. Horror

Delbert has just happily seated himself at his dining room table. He closes his eyes to say grace.

"What in all blue blazing galaxies is the meaning of this?!" Amelia shrieks as she throws down a book on the table.

"AAAHHH! What?!"

Purp juice, toast and cutlery have gone flying across the table in Delbert's hasty escape from the offending object. One leg up in the air, one hand clutching at his heart, and hyperventilating like he just finished an IronAlien triathalon, he stares wildly at a Felinid who's positively fuming. He takes a peek at the book that's been so hideously abused.

And chuckles.

Sarah, who had been in the kitchen making breakfast for herself and Jim, is now standing fearfully in the doorway, brandishing a wooden spoon and looking back and forth between the two.

"Ah, this," Delbert smiles as he picks up an aged copy of Treasure Island, dabbing at a little purp juice on it with a napkin. "This is a very good book."

"This is an atrociously terrible excuse for a book," her eyes are slits and her teeth are knives, daring him to defend the wretched thing.

"I thought you might think so," Delbert nods. "After all, it's not at all flattering to you, I suppose."

"I am not a boorish man! And I am nowhere near that temperamental and rude!"

Delbert raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, fine, so maybe a tad, but never without good cause."

Delbert raises the other eyebrow.

"Alright, sometimes. But still. It's highly inaccurate."

"Did you happen to view the date of printing?" Delbert flips to a page before handing the book to her. But rather than taking the thing, Amelia simply scans the page from a decent distance, as if the book has a contagious disease now.

"Oh. Now that's . . . what's the word young Hawkins uses? Freaky."

Sarah speaks up from the doorway, "Um . . . you two are ok, right? I'm going back to the kitchen now, and I don't want to clean up any dead bodies."

"Well, as long as the Captain here doesn't decide to play the part of her novel counterpart . . ." Delbert begins slyly.

"Oh, right, Doctor," she sneers. "Easy for you to say. You have no direct correlation, being split into two people. It's nowhere near as humiliating and awkward, but you do a fine enough job of that for yourself."

Delbert immediately sees the hole he's dug for himself. In his short time of knowing Amelia, he's been in this position plenty enough. He now has one of two options: the first, get all huffy and fire back at her (thus digging the hole deeper and slowly and agonizingly lose to her superior wits), or humble and grovel now to win back her favor, then think of some way to get her back later when she's in a better mood.

"Ah, yes, I suppose you are right, Captain, as always. And I believe I must apologize. While it was. . . ahm, quite amusing, I realize it was at your expense. And I do have to agree, I find that you are a much more appealing person than that 'boorish man.'"

Amelia's eyes widen and Sarah walks back in the kitchen barely concealing her laughter.

Delbert rethinks what he just says, blushes a ridiculous shade of red that almost matches his jacket perfectly, and stammers out anything and everything to mask his admitted confession. He'd only meant to butter her up, not to actually admit that he found her . . .

"Yes, well, Doctor, usually I'd say that flattery gets you nowhere, but judging from the shade of your face and horror in your eyes, I think we're definitely going _somewhere_," she says with a smirk and turns to leave. "And for the record, I did find that Doctor to be quite _appealing_ as well, but perhaps I have a biased opinion of doctors."

And with a wink, she's gone.

* * *

A/N: Again, I'm shocked at the turn this one took, but that's just how it came out. I couldn't even think of how to end it otherwise. This was definitely not what I was thinking when I started writing for "horror" though. It was supposed to be on Amelia's end regarding the book. I suppose that's how writing works, though, doesn't it? But enough of that. I don't know why I feel like I should apologize.

Don't forget to review, or I might set the Captain after you.


	17. 073 I Can't

A/N: I don't think I've gone through as many revisions and edits for any of these stories as I have this one. Is that a sign that I'm growing or getting worse? Lol. No, I guess it's a good thing. But wow. This took like two and a half hours. That includes re-watching this scene several times on my iPod. Where did my patience come from? Anyway this was supposed to kind of continue in resolving Jim's issues. Don't know if that worked out too well or not.

Still don't own Treasure Planet.

* * *

073. I Can't

Two and a half months ago, Jim Hawkins was completely happy being completely miserable.

He'd mope through school, he'd mope through chores at the Benbow, he'd have a blast out solarsurfing, and then he'd mope back at the Benbow when the Bot Cops caught him and escorted him home.

He didn't care about school, he didn't care about friends, he didn't care about what his mom wanted him to do with his life, he just liked solarsurfing and building things.

So when he had a bad day, he'd just go out back to the shed and tinker around, or surf out where he hoped no Bot Cops would follow. He'd escape and then the next day he'd face reality again.

But he can't do that now.

On the _Legacy_, his life is not his own. No going off solarsurfing after a bad day on the ship. Sure, he's the one that owns the map, but the Captain doesn't care about that one bit. She's the Captain, it's her ship, so the cabin boy's gotta do whatever she says. And she said he had to do whatever Silver said.

The maniacal, sadistic, twisted Silver.

He's always poking Jim with questions, pushing him with insults, shoving him with work, making him scrub dishes, scrub floors, scrub potatoes, and always reminding him who's boss.

Jim's completely miserable, but now he's not happy one bit.

Sure, there were times that Silver could be a bit nice. Sometimes he'd let Jim off work fifteen minutes early so he could sit up in the crow's nest and enjoy the cool breeze of the Etherium before dinner. And sometimes Silver would tell Jim about his experiences on his homeworld of Ursa (the Ursids were the first to come up with the concept of solarsurfing, and they've got the best rocky and mountainous terrain for it; Silver's told Jim stories of surviving a thousand foot fall when his motor cut out and of his friend creating a surfer that ran on oxygen instead of solar energy). And yeah, once Silver even told Jim of how he too had to grow up without a father, and how his own poor mother finally couldn't support him and his brother and so had to send them off to the orphanage (this was after a particular rough and busy day and they were both exhausted, otherwise Jim doesn't think Silver would have been so open with him).

So fine, maybe sometimes Silver isn't all that bad of a guy.

Jim sighs looks out at the night sky from where he's sitting in B.E.N.'s home.

Well, Silver _wasn't_ that bad of a guy. Before. But now, he's the maniacal, sadistic and twisted Silver.

If Silver hadn't gone all ax-crazy and done that mutinous pirate mess, Jim would probably have let him have a share of the treasure. He didn't know how much there really was, but come on, the loot of a thousand worlds? Jim and the Doc probably couldn't take _all_ of it home.

Jim had even started to _like_ Silver. No. More than that. He'd _trusted_ Silver.

There haven't been many times in Jim's life where he actually had to do something, where he'd been forced to decide something that had the potential to make him or break him. On Montressor, he just lived life and solarsurfed his troubles away.

But things are different now.

Now, Jim has to make a decision. Because if he doesn't, it's certain death. If he makes the wrong decision, it's also certain death. And right now, Jim's having a hard time figuring out what the right decision even is.

"I can't," he whispers out loud to himself. "I can't do it."

"What was that Jim?" Doc looks up at him from his place by the Captain's side.

"Nothing. Just talking to myself." But now Jim remembers that there are _others_ who are also facing certain death.

He can't, but he still has to. He has to try.

The Captain's saying something, and Jim comes closer to hear. Maybe at least _she_ has some ideas. She was a retired Naval Captain, after all, so certainly she's gotten through worse situations. "We need to stay together, and . . ." before she collapses from exhaustion. Doc's freaking out, as usual, and starts shouting at her to hopefully get her to finish her thought.

"Doctor . . . you have . . . _wonderful_ eyes," she says with a dazed look and Jim gets a wave of panic. He doesn't know what's more horrifying to discover: the Captain doesn't have a battle plan or someone actually finds Doppler attractive.

Jim wonders which one Doc's thinking about when he exclaims, "She's lost her mind!"

"We need to help her!" If she doesn't have any strategy either, this is looking bad for all of them.

Doppler's now reached what Jim has labeled Level 6 of Doc's Hysteria Mode, and Jim's getting more and more antsy. He places his hands on his shoulders and tries to reassure him. B.E.N.'s quick to follow up by reassuring him that _Jimmy_ will work it all out.

Thanks, B.E.N. Thanks a lot.

"Any thoughts at all?" B.E.N.'s whispers conspiratorially.

Jim's too dismayed to be annoyed at B.E.N. "Without the map, we're dead. If we try to leave, we're dead. If we stay here . . ."

"We're dead! We're dead, we're dead, we're dead!" Morph exclaims helpfully. Then he whimpers, wondering if he said the wrong thing.

Too dismayed to be annoyed.

"Well, I think that, eh, Jimmy could use a little quiet time. Aheheh. So I'll just . . . slip out the back door," B.E.N. clanks away as quietly as he can muster.

Did he just hear that right?

"Back door?" Jim swivels around to find B.E.N. creaking open a rather large mound by the wall of the hideout. He runs over to see what B.E.N.'s been holding out from them.

And he grins a little.

_Maybe _we_ can._


	18. 088 Pain

Disclaimer: I don't own Treasure Planet. Imagine if I did?

* * *

088. Pain

"Captain! Laserball at 12 o'clock!"

_Yes, Doctor, thank you for once again proving your ability to point out the terribly obvious._

But everything happens too quick, and Amelia can't respond with a playful quip and evade the laserball at the same time.

Apparently, she can't do either.

Realizing the dilemma perhaps a split second too late, she quickly angles the sail to take the brunt of the blow. Better that than them. Unfortunately, there are still repercussions, and Amelia immediately feels them.

It feels like a thousand white hot knives shredding her side.

She can't help herself from crying out, and she's immediately disgusted and ashamed.

_Can't take a little pain, Amelia?_

Her vision's becoming clouded and her whole body is on fire and throbbing terribly, she wants nothing more than to let go and end it all right now.

_How noble._

She grits her teeth hard, too hard, and does the best she can to steer the mangled longboat with one arm. That doesn't work out so hot so she has no choice but to use both.

_Pain? What pain? There is no pain. There is no pain. Keep going. You have to, you must. It's almost over. Do it for Arrow. He'd want you to try, to do your best. He always did his best. He never gave up. He could do this with no arms, he could do this blindfolded. Don't give up, don't feel pain._

The pain.

It hurts.

_Pain . . . is weakness leaving the body_.

She wills herself to believe it as they hurtle towards the ground at a speed that's not at all comforting.

She wasn't actually aiming for it, but she has to admit that crashing through the humongous fungus was a brilliant way to break their fall.

"Oh my goodness. That was more fun than I ever want to have again," the Doctor is saying exhaustedly.

_Oh, Doctor, if that was too much fun, you'd hate my sense of humor._

And yeah, well, sliding along the ground underneath a longboat crushed together with a grown Canid and adolescent human boy doesn't help her side one bit.

Would you believe she actually felt _worse_?

She wants to yell, she wants to hit something, she wants to bite something, but she settles for laughing and saying, "That wasn't one of my . . . gossamer landings."

And now she's clutching her side, on the ground, stars exploding in her sight.

Unfortunately, no matter how much her mind tells herself she feels no pain, her body's not buying it.

_Blast it_.

Someone has a strong grip on her arm and she assumes it's Mister Hawkins. He and the Doctor try and help her up.

_Oh, now this is fantastic, let's just let everyone know I'm in pain and let them fuss over me like a regular damsel in distress. I think not_.

She's a Captain and there's a reason for it.

"Don't fuss," she gasps and falters again. Jim is still behind her and he catches her before she falls. She doesn't know if she wants to beat him or thank him. She plays off her moment of weakness and tries to move along before they can ask her anything.

"Mister Hawkins."

Unfortunately, the person she has just addressed isn't Mister Hawkins.

_Oh._

_Wait, really?_

_That was the_ Doctor_?  
_

She doesn't have time to process this, so she keeps going, before they see fit to point _that_ out as well.

"The map, if you please," she holds out her hand expectantly.

Jim pulls out the little sphere and everyone gives out a sigh of relief.

Until it levitates.

Morph.

_I hate that thing. I hate that thing. I will kill it. Come just a little closer . . ._

She hears something. Her ears have perked up and she turns as quickly as her body will allow. There's the faint sound of a solar engine, and Amelia picks it up immediately before she even spots the mutineers' longboat.

"Stifle that blob, and get low," Amelia hisses. "We've got company." There are several meanings for the word stifle. The most common perhaps is "to hide or conceal." Amelia's hoping that Jim will take it to mean "to impair the respiration of" or "asphyxiate."

The longboat soon passes and Amelia realizes that they need to find shelter before the pirates do. And preferably before the pirates find them, as well.

"We need a more defensible position," she struggles to stand, but thankfully the Doctor and Jim are too focused on their alarm of pirates to notice. "Mister Hawkins, scout ahead." She passes Jim a laser pistol.

He looks at her for a moment as if asking her if she's sure before he realizes that's a silly question. He takes it with nothing more than an "aye, Cap'n" and begins to tuck it in the back of his trousers before Amelia's once again overtaken with pain.

"Steady, steady," the Doctor eases her down. "Now, let's have a look at that."

"Doctor, I-" Amelia begins.

"That was an order, Captain," the Doctor says sternly.

She has to say, she's impressed with his nerve. She can feel her resolve breaking already.

But she's not giving up that easy. "And I am the Captain, _Doctor_. Perhaps if your doctorate involved medical studies I might be convinced to consider your offer, but I'm inclined to think it did not," Amelia retorts icily.

He makes no response but to begin unbuttoning her jacket.

For a moment, all thoughts of Doctor Delbert Doppler being a gentleman have been tossed out the window.

She slaps his hand away and immediately winces, not so much from the pain she caused herself by such a quick motion as much as the shock of such a rude action towards someone who was trying to help her.

"I . . . I'm sorry," Amelia says.

The Doctor nods. "I'm sorry, too. But only for not warning you. Now, if you please, I'd rather get this done with. If we happen to have to run from any pirates, I'd prefer it when you were properly bandaged."

She grimaces in return. The pain is now a dull throb, but spiking up whenever she makes a wrong move or the Doctor hits a tender spot.

To be honest, she's sick of playing mind games with herself.

Pain may be weakness leaving the body.

But sometimes she wonders if she'd rather be weak.

* * *

A/N: Oh man, this one took forever to end. I kinda didn't wanna go that far, it's been written too many times. I hope the end wasn't random or tacky or cliche. Review, critique, anything.

And, I was so very _sorely_ tempted to put "plasma pistol" instead of "laser pistol." But I shan't relive my Halo days.


	19. 051 Sport

A/N: So, I tried to do a bit of research on my own, and turns out some of the information I found was incorrect (ex. crewmembers' names). For my summary, I am keeping Mr. Zoff as one website indicated as opposed to Mr. Snuff as the artbook has dubbed him, because I need a "z" in there. But I'm gonna use Snuff here, just to be accurate. Highly unprofessional, I know, but you'll deal.

Thanks for all the reviews! To address a few:

Xiaolin Showdown Fan12345: I will definitely keep that suggestion in mind. Thanks. (= Writing is getting harder now, with time, motivation, and inspiration, but that definitely helps to give me more ideas. (And if anybody else would like to drop a note for an idea, feel free! There is no guarantee it'll get done, but it also doesn't hurt to try :)

Guest: Actually, I've never myself read Treasure Island, though I keep meaning to. I actually recently saw the 1998 version of it, which was SO terrible and so depressing. Everyone but Silver, Ben, and Jim died. In my horror, I looked up the story on Wikipedia and found it was quite inaccurate. But I did a little study on Smollet to write what was hopefully a believable reaction on Amelia's part. And as for Amelia psyching herself out, that part was actually inspired by real life events in which I was nearing the end of long day of work, trying to organize the mess of the department store I work in. I went from ignoring the pain to thinking of people who've endured worse. And, in my case, it worked. (=

Jennie-JenJen: Wow! Thanks for all of your lovely reviews! They're encouraging and inspiring and just plain wonderful. Your prayers are appreciated, and so are your ramblings. If anything, they give me more things to think about for other stories (like more depth on Jim and Sarah's relationship, or Amelia's reaction to Delbert's home, etc). As for the unemployed Amelia bit, I'm unsure of what her exact status is, but in my view, she's retired from the Navy and running her own ship (briefly referenced in "Annoyance"). She'd be unemployed because her ship is her home and job. I know, I don't think anybody can really come to a consensus on the job status of the Captain, but that's where creative license kicks in, right? I will be using this excuse a lot. (;

And thanks to SqueeFreak, Anony mouse101, moaboa, and Mia LeighArc for all of your encouraging reviews. Each one is appreciated!

Now, on with the show (which, in all its entirety, belongs to Disney).

051. Sport or, This is How a Crew Should Really Be

"Tell me, Jimbo, ya ever played purp hockey before?" Silver is tossing a purp up and down pensively. They're sitting down in the galley, relaxing a bit after a hard day's work. Supper's done, dishes washed, tables all wiped down, and the floor's been swept and mopped. Jim's finally getting his chance to cool down, but the mention of food and/ or sports will never fail to get a teenage boy's full attention.

"Purp . . . hockey?" No, Jim never knew that a purp could be used for anything but eating before.

"Hm. Well I s'pose it's bout time I taught ya someting useful,"the galley cook says with a grin. "Snuff! Birdie!" Silver barks.

Mister Snuff and Birdbrain Mary look up from the corner table that they're sitting at, playing cards.

"Cabin boy here's never been acquainted with the marvelous sport of purp hockey. Whaddya say we give him a little learnin?"

Snuff stands, emitting a sound that is best described as something between a squirt and a belch. Jim wishes the guy had normal vocal chords so he could at least figure out if his tone of voice was gleeful or maniacal. But, even knowing the little that he does about Snuff, it's probably both.

Silver divvies out some mops and brooms. Birdbrain Mary's complaining that the cleaning implements were crackbrainedly made without any consideration for those that were height challenged. Snuff lets out another ambiguous and disturbing squirlch and takes her broom, unscrewing the shaft. He holds on to the stick while he hands her the end that's more applicable to her size.

"Yeah, yeah, I coulda done that!" she says in thanks.

They proceed to alter the game arena, pushing the galley tables sideways so they run along the wall, and setting up the goals; two barrels on one end for the Silver Hawks, two stools at the other for the Bird Snuffers.

"Battle stations!" Silver commands.

A head peeks down into the galley.

"What in the- can I ref?" Turnbuckle's astonishment quickly turns into delight as he bustles down the stairs.

"It'd be an honor, Mista Turnbuckle," Silver responds graciously.

Silver and Jim are at the far end of the galley, by the stove. Silver is hunched over, gripping his mop with the ferocity of a bloodthirsty pirate. Jim almost laughs at the image as he aimlessly twirls his broom.

Silver breaks down the game for him. "We ain't gonn' ta worry bout all dem regulations and specifics. All ya need to know is, get dat purp in that there goal," he raises one stubby, clawed finger to point to the space between two stools that. "No fouls, no bounds. But don't let them fool ya, Jimbo. They're a ruthless team. I've neva beaten em yet."

Is that a hint of _bitterness_ Jim hears?

And never yet, huh?

This might be more fun than Jim had originally anticipated. He gives a grin. "So . . . what's game?"

"We'll play ta twenty, win by two, yer standard scorin," Silver replies.

"Whaddya say best o' three? Cause it's gon' be twenty befar yeh know it!" Mary cackles.

They do indeed play for the best of three games. Unfortunately for the Bird Snuffers, the odds are not in their favor.

Call it youth, call it athleticism, but Jim just calls it natural awesomeness, and that's why the Silver Hawks can smirk and gloat, giving each other high fives and manly shoves whenever they cross paths for the rest of the week.

It's also probably why Mister Snuff and Birdbrain Mary are sulking and glowering all week.

And it very well could possibly have something to do with Mister Arrow coming on deck the next morning announcing that no unauthorized sports are to be played on the ship.

But maybe it _is_ just natural awesomeness.


	20. 082 Can You Hear Me?

A/N: Ah, reviews, so lovely and heartwarming. And fifty already! I am stunned.

Mila Ligaf, I did have my suspicions that it was you, but I didn't say anything for fear that I could be wrong. (= And I think I read the first of the Airborne series, but it was a few years back and I hardly remember a thing (except that the hydrium gas smelled like mangoes). But I shall go and look that up as well. And thanks for the ideas!

I'm glad to know so many people enjoyed "Sport." That one actually had been in the works for a couple weeks, I just never got it quite right. Honestly, I didn't think I'd make it this far. Reviews are probably the only thing keeping me going at this rate. So thank you, _everyone_!

This idea was given by Xiaolin Showdown Fan12345. Thank you, I would never have thought of this otherwise.

Treasure Planet belongs to Disney.

* * *

082. Can You Hear Me?

The Etherium is calm and peaceful. The bright light of distant stars winks down at him, the deep blue space swallowing up every worry and care.

It's early in the morning and Jim's on lookout, otherwise he'd never be allowed out here on the bowsprit. Sure, most of the crew wouldn't give a Serpantid's tail if he lost his footing and floated to his death, but the Captain would probably hang him if she caught him endangering himself like this (and likely only because he's a minor and that would make her look careless). And don't even get started on the Doc.

But right now he's all alone, and the next watch isn't due for another half hour or so. He's savoring every second he has.

The crisp, cool air is rushing past, and Jim shivers just the slightest bit. He takes a deep breath, and he feels the cold of the Etherium night in his throat.

He almost understands why his father left.

This is amazing.

To live like this every day? Nothing holding him back from grasping the Etherium in his fingertips? There isn't much that would keep Jim from running off and doing the same.

Except his mom.

Mom.

Jim sighs. He loves her with all his heart, but that's not enough, is it? No, she wants something more, she wants him to _be_ something more, but Jim just doesn't know what.

"What do I do?" he asks the Etherium. "What am I supposed to do? How do I make her happy? And how am _I_ supposed to be happy?" He blinks back a few tears, wishing he had someone who'd help him know, wishing he had his dad.

_Stop wishing and face reality. _

"I hate you, you hear me?! I hate you!" His words are drowned out by the rushing air, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is making that selfish jerk regret everything he never did for his son. Never being there for him when the neighbors bullied him, never teaching him how to throw a ball or build a fort, never staying to watch him grow up. "I'm gonna do whatever it takes to make Mom proud and to make you sorry! I'll _make sure_ you hear me! You're gonna hear of James Hawkins and you're gonna regret all of it!"

The Etherium just blinks back at him and whips his tears away.

* * *

A/N: This is what _not_ to do when someone hurts you, ok? I am writing from a currently-broken-Jim's perspective. No one should get bitter and allow it to fuel them to vengeance (even a semi-vengeance like Jim's). Everything happens for a reason, and I am a firm believer that God is _always_ in control. So, please, do _not_ take Jim's words the wrong way, because I can just see some poor reader right now, picturing their own Leland Hawkins in their life and saying the same words. Just so you know where I stand.


	21. 021 Vacation

A/N: Thank you once again for the reviews. You know how some authors offer cookies or other pretend bribes? I wish I could really offer some. Not as a bribe, but as a thank you.

I'm not too thoroughly satisfied with this one, but the itch to update won out over the need to have a perfect piece, so, here is the half-hearted product. Let me know what you think.

Disney owns Treasure Planet.

* * *

021. Vacation

"I need a vacation!" Amelia shouts through gritted teeth, her palm smack against her forehead.

The Benbow Inn is now in total, absolute, and utter silence.

All eyes on Amelia.

"B-b-b-but, darling . . . you're retired," Delbert says oh-so-helpfully.

Yes, she did retire after all the events of Treasure Planet. The first reason being that the voyage kinda took all the thirst for adventure out of her (coming close to dying at least three times in a short span of time can do that to a person). The second reason . . . is the reason she needs a vacation.

"Mommy, Mommy, what's wrong?"

"Is Mommy angry? Did I do something, Daddy?"

"Mommy, I want _noobluian _chocolate!"

"Look, Mommy! You have gray hairs!"

The patrons of the Benbow carefully and quietly resume their conversations, sneaking furtive glances over at the Doppler table should they give any more signs of psychotic tendencies.

"That's it, I'm done, I'm out of here, I'll see ya in a couple months. Maybe." Amelia stands quickly, snatching her coat off the back of the chair and snapping it on in the blink of an eye.

"B-b-b-but, dear, what do you mean?" Delbert stares up at his wife helplessly.

"I. Am. Leaving. Delbert,"Amelia says slowly and clearly. Conversations are slowing throughout the room, not so much as for fear of safety now as much as an interest in the drama of a couple's romantic life. "I need some time by myself. To relax. It is impossible to hear myself _think_ when all I hear are five other voices."

"But we only have four childre-oh," realization dawns as Delbert speaks. Four kids, one husband . . .

"I agree. I think I need a vacation, too. From life," Sarah says. She's standing by their table with a plate of noobluian chocolate pancakes for little Chelsea.

"Yes!" Chelsea reaches for the plate with delight.

"What do you say, Amelia? A little vacation. You and me. Jim's home for the holidays so he and B.E.N. can manage the Benbow. And if Delbert needs any help with the kids, he can just hop over here," Sarah smiles.

"Ah, well, I think I could handle-" Delbert begins before Amelia raises an eyebrow. "Oh, fine, I guess you're right, Sarah. And I think that's a lovely idea, by the way. Just try not to have too much fun without me. What do you think, darling?"

"It sounds charming. When shall we leave?" Amelia ponders.

"Leave? Mommy, are you really going?" Chelsea says around a mouthful of pancakes.

"Please don't go, Mommy!" Samuel mourns.

"Chelsea, do not talk with your mouth full. It is difficult to hear you and rather yucky to see. Samuel, darling, it won't be for long. I'll come back in a week or so," Amelia says and gives her son an affectionate pat of the head.

"Oh, absolutely no more than a week. I don't trust B.E.N. for that long," chuckles Sarah. "And I'm ready whenever you are. Though we probably should wait for the weekend so it's not so much of a shock. I should probably give Jim a heads up, though. One moment." Sarah dashes back to the kitchen to find Jim.

"Well, that's lovely. The two most beautiful and hardworking women I know, finally getting their well deserved vacation," Delbert grins. "When do I get mine?"

"I'll consider it. When I get back," is the noncommittal reply. Amelia pauses for a moment, finally taking in all that has transpired in the past minute. "Are you sure that you're alright with this? I admit that I was merely exasperated in the moment, I don't believe I'd have really left." Amelia places a hand on her husband's shoulder.

Delbert gives an understanding smile. "Of course I'm sure. You'd know it if I wasn't."

Amelia laughs. That _is_ true. No one is as easy to read as the Doctor. "Alright, then, Well, I'll only be a phone call away. Thank you, dear. This means a lot."

"All right! So we can leave Friday afternoon, then. Jim actually seems to be excited, though I hope he's not planning on anything crazy like a party at the Benbow or something," Sarah pauses to wonder. "But anyway, Delbert and B.E.N. will keep a good eye on him, right?"

"Of course, Sarah," Delbert concurs sagely.

"Well, I suppose I'd better see to the rest of my customers and get a move on packing. Oh, and I should leave some notes for Jim on what to do when I'm not here, in case he has any problems," Sarah worries out loud.

"Tish tosh, Sarah. Your son is perfectly capable of handling himself, should any issue arise. I suppose this must be a great learning experience for him, as well. He'll have to be able to manage a ship of his own one day. What better way than to start learning now at home?" Amelia smirks. "We're hitting two Avianids with one stone here; we get away to relax for a while, and our men learn how to handle everything on their own."

"I suppose you're right, Amelia. Well, better be off. If vacation's only a couple days away, there's a lot to be done!" And with that, Sarah bustles off.

Amelia smiles.

She takes a look at her family. Chelsea is now covered in noobluian chocolate. Her messy, adorable visage gives Amelia the desire to cringe and laugh at the same time. Delbert is fussing over Alexandra, who has managed to get the entirety of her breakfast everywhere but in her own mouth. Mary is concentrating very hard on flawlessly getting the contents of her plate into her mouth one bite at a time. And Samuel . . . is still reading the menu (or attempting, as best as a four year old can).

"Samuel, dearest, you'll never get to eat anything if you insist that you finish reading that first. Why don't we order some toast and eggs, then we can ask Mrs. Hawkins if we can take a menu home to look at it later?"

"Ok, Mommy," Samuel chirps.

Amelia now takes a cloth napkin, dabs it in a glass of water, and proceeds to wipe breakfast off of Chelsea's face. "You must be more careful when you eat, darling. We are not animals. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mommy," Chelsea nods.

Amelia sighs. Much work to do, indeed. Then she grins as she wonders how Delbert will be able to keep up with the children.

She resolves to get him a really nice souvenir.

* * *

A/N: A note on names:

Samuel comes from Samuel Arrow.

Alexandra (redhead) comes from Treasure Island's Captain Alexander Smollet.

Mary (blonde) comes from Amelia Mary Earhart.

Chelsea (brunette) is a bit random, to be honest, but it sounded fitting.


	22. 068 Hero

A/N: As per request, here is a continuation of "Vacation." It's quite short. I would write more, but I didn't get much sleep last night and I have to work nearly thirteen hours tomorrow. Sorry.

The name David comes from Dr. David Livesey of Treasure Island, one of the characters that Doppler was modeled after.

Disney owns Treasure Planet.

068. Hero

"Chelsea, dear, no, don't touch that! That's not for touching, it's for decoration onl-"

_CRASH!_

"Aaah, alright, please, just stand back, and don't touch anything else- Samuel David, absolutely not! Drop the catnip! Mary, take that out of your mouth right now! I don't care what your brother told you."

If Doctor Delbert Doppler had known that this was what he would get when his wife went on vacation, he would have chained her to the kitchen table and never let her leave.

He never did like kids that much.

Fortunately, he knows someone who does.

"Ok, all of you, just- just- just _stop_, for one minute, ok? Daddy's gonna make a phone call, and I want _absolute silence_. The one that's the quietest will get to pick out the story tonight," Delbert bribes as he reaches for the telephone on the wall.

The children's eyes light up in glee, and they clamp their mouths shut as tight as possible, each wanting to best the other and win the glorious opportunity of choosing the bedtime story that has become part of their evening routine. With four distinctly different children, there are vastly diverse tastes in tales. Each night is sure to be an adventure.

"Hello, B.E.N.? Yes, this is Delbert. Oh, yes, I'm sure that your cabbages are lovely, but that's not what I'm calling to talk about. No, no, B.E.N., really, this is an emergency, may I please talk to Jim? B.E.N., no, B.E.N., really, _B.E.N.!_ . . . _thank you_." Delbert rolls his eyes in exasperation. B.E.N.'s gardening exploits were not really any of his concern at the moment. In fact, they never were.

"Ah, Jim, hello. Yes, I have a really huge favor to ask of you. No, it doesn't involve any of Delilah's excretions this time, I promise. You see, Jim, I have a lot of work to do on this lecture for Monday, and I haven't been able to get anything done all morning. Do you think that you could watch the kids at the Benbow today? I'll pay you. Yes, just for tonight, I'll pick them up at eight, if that's alright. Oh, Jim, you're a hero, thank you, we'll be over in half an hour. Thank you, thank you, good-bye."

Delbert turns to his children and grins with joy and relief.

"Alright, time to get dressed. We're going on a field trip!"


	23. 056 Danger Ahead

_A/N: Wow. We're a quarter of the way through! I honestly didn't think I'd make it this far, and it's all thanks to you guys! Keep the ramblings coming!_

_Jennie-JenJen: Your reviews are AMAZING. I really do appreciate the time that you put into reviewing. Honestly, it's made me think about what I say when I review or comment on others' works. The AU is a tad challenging, having to think of what I'm gonna change and what I'm gonna keep, as well as trying to stick to the TP storyline, which I've obviously sort of deviated from already. And wow! You and Mia LeighArc both, I feel for you two. Thanks for your openness in sharing and I'm sorry for both of your losses, but I'm so encouraged by what you said. God is always in control, though at times we may not believe it. I'm also encouraged by your strong statement of your beliefs. Your boldness is a challenge to me to get out of my comfort zone more. [= (Btw, the naturally awesome comment was not lame, it was very kind of you :)_

_Mila Ligaf: Thank you again for your reviews as well! They're an absolute pleasure to read. And honestly, kids are cute, but none of them are angels. I've been watching some children a lot recently, and they are smart and evil. But somehow, I still love them. Thus, my interpretation of the Doppler kids (and everyone in general) will be as accurate to real life children (and people) as possible. Warts and all._

_Anony mouse101: I'm really glad that you like the names. I was afraid of naming them at all, really. I put a bit of effort into those, because I like names with meaning to them. So thanks. [=_

_Moaboa and RhythmAndTime: I suppose if you insist . . . I must try for the readers' sake, right? Hopefully your request will be coming soon. (;_

_And to everyone else, if I missed you, thank you for reading and reviewing. To those that read and don't review, I do hope that you might leave some morsel for this poor author. Reviews are like food. So if you want to keep reading, keep the author alive! I know those 2,000+ views aren't from the reviewers alone, you can't hide from me! . . . unless someone keeps hitting the refresh button . . ._

_Also, apologies for how late this one is in coming. I got stuck and the inspiration just wasn't coming. Plus, I've been working full time and overtime. So this is terribly short, I know, but I couldn't bear not updating any longer. I'm still stuck, but I'll put forth some more effort._

_Wow. I think that's the longest A/N yet. Well, onward._

_Treasure Planet belongs to Disney._

* * *

056. Danger Ahead

"Alright, you all be good for Mister Jim today. I don't want to hear of _any_ trouble, or we're not going to read a story tonight at all, is that understood?"

"Yes, Daddy," four angelic voices chorus. Delbert smiles down lovingly at his children before turning to "Mister" Jim.

"Thank you again, Jim. You really are a lifesaver."

"Don't mention it Doc. Your kids are awesome. And the pay isn't half bad, either," Jim winks. Yes, well, when you're babysitting for a family friend who has piles of money at his disposal, the pay is a little bit more than just minimum wage.

"Anytime, Jim. If you ever want to just take them off my hands, feel free. A hundred gold apiece, I'll sell them to you now," Doppler half jokes. He sighs and runs a hand across his face tiredly. "I just need to get this lecture done. The money isn't an issue, but my reputation as a renowned astrophysicist is," Delbert now places his hand solemnly over his heart, probably going for the "dignified doctor" look.

"Oh yeah, how's that workin out for ya? Anybody other than the University heard of you yet?" Jim smirks.

"Well, there's a couple newspapers that mentioned me being the financier for the _Legacy'_s voyage, but they didn't say anything about my being a noted astrophysicist." He hangs his head.

"All in good time, Doc, I'm sure. I'll put a word in for ya at the Acadamy, kay? In the meantime, your lecture'll be a hit. What's it on again?"

"Ah, it's about the various applications of magnetohydrodynamics to theoretical astrophysics," Delbert begins excitedly. Jim decides to nod, smile, and let Delbert get this out of his system. Hey, he's preparing for a lecture, why not let him practice a bit? "In fact, Jim, it's crazy, but magnetic reconnection in highly conductive systems is important because blah blah blah blah and it concentrates energy in time and space blah blah blah blah violent explosions and bursts of radiation! But blah blah blah and blah to the blah blah and that's what I'm out to prove you see, astrophysical plasmas _can _be blahblah blahdee blee blah! So, what do you think?"

"I think it's a winner, Doc," Jim says with conviction. So maybe science isn't Jim's thing, but there has to be _some_ method to Doc's madness, and if anyone can understand it, University students sure can.

"Well, anyway, I'd better get going. Thanks again, Jim. See you tonight. Bye, kids! I love you all! Be good!"

"Bye, Daddy!"

The door shuts and the bells clang a little. Jim turns to the children.

"Well, we're gonna have fun today aren't we?" Jim grins, a little excited at the opportunity to be a kid again. Jim's never actually had to babysit before (The Captain and Mom had always been around for that), and Jim's kind of looking forward to it.

The cute Doppler children grin back.

He has no idea of the danger ahead.


	24. 072 Mischief Managed

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, again! All such a pleasure to read! And do let me know what you honestly think of this one, if it can be improved, any grammar, etc. This one was rushed. Well, as rushed as almost four straight hours of writing can be. This is what I do on my afternoon off. Smh. I hope you all are happy! Lol.  
_

_And yes, moaboa, I did vote. Congrats on your win! I voted for you. (; I've never done requests before though, so go easy on me, lol. And thanks for the advice on adjusting my A/N. I wondered about that, actually._

_Disclaimer: In no way, shape or form do I own Treasure Planet._

* * *

072. Mischief Managed

It's one o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, and so far, the Doppler kids have been pretty well behaved.

At first, Jim was sorely tempted to put a "Sorry, We're Closed" sign up on the door to the Benbow, but he knew his mom would throw a fit, regardless of how much Delbert payed him today.

The Benbow closes for none.

Fortunately, there are only three patrons at the Benbow currently. One is upstairs in a room, sleeping. The other two are sitting together at a table, awaiting their lunch courtesy of Chef B.E.N.

Another upside is that B.E.N. not only loves to cook, but he can do it decently enough without Jim having to worry about dealing with any food poisoning related lawsuits.

One experience was enough for B.E.N. to learn his lesson.

At the moment, Jim's sitting at a corner table with the Doppler kids after lunch, working on some _History of The Imperial Galaxy: Peoples, Worlds, and Wars_ reading assignments and related questions while they color to their hearts' content. He's come to the conclusion that Mary is a perfectionist, Chelsea is rather emotionally expressive, Samuel has a fascination for freakish and bizarre creatures, and Alexandra has a strong fondness for the color black. Respectively, he has been gifted with one carefully drawn picture of him and B.E.N., twelve furious scribbles of questionable subject matter (each in a different color), five drawings of horned, fanged, clawed, and otherwise accessorized beasts, and seventeen black depictions of the color black. Black cats, black solar galleons, black books, black stars, black knives, etc. Jim makes a mental note to ask his mom if this is normal in child development before he freaks their parents out.

He sighs as he sets aside another completed chapter's worth of work. Eyeing his half inch stack of paper, his sigh turns into a groan as he realizes that he's not even halfway through.

History teachers are evil.

"Here ya go, Mister Jim. This one shows just how much I love you!" Chelsea grins fanatically as she hands Jim a huge red heart with lots of smiley faces inside. There's something a bit different about this paper from the rest in his gift stack, and he turns it around. His eyes bug out.

"Chelsea, this is my homework!" Jim exclaims in shock and horror.

"I know. I did it so you can keep it with you forever!" She looks incredibly proud of herself for coming up with such a brilliant scheme.

"I'm not keeping my homework, Chelsea, I'm turning it in to my _teacher_," Jim groans.

"Oh." She puts a finger to her lips as she thinks. "Then he'll know how much I love you, too!" She bursts into another smile.

"Sure. Right. Thanks, Chelsea. But no more drawing on my homework. Got that?" Jim lowers his head to look at her straight in the eyes, trying to give "the grown up look."

"Aww. But I already started!" Samuel holds up a half drawn bespectacled ball of spikes. On the back is Jim's response to an essay question on the principal events and outcomes of the Sesquid Wars. Jim slaps a palm to his forehead.

"Oh. Me, too." Mary hangs her head in shame and shows Jim her drawing. It's a straight line. It doesn't even stretch across half of the paper.

"Me, three."

Jim's afraid to look at Alexandra's drawing. He turns slowly.

She's colored everything black. The front and the back. There's a spot that she seems to have missed on the paper, and Jim takes a closer look. Inside, in Jim's handwriting, is the word "black."

Jim's face is blank. "Alexandra . . . why?"

"Black is my favorite."

Oh, the wonders of a child's logic. "But Alexandra, _why_? Why did you do this? You completely covered my homework!" Jim restrains himself from shrieking.

"Not completely," she frowns.

"Almost. Pretty much. _Why_, Alexandra?" Jim's voice is raising in pitch with his barely contained fury.

"It was fun."

Jim facepalms again. He has a feeling it won't be the last time today. "Alexandra, just because something is fun doesn't mean you can just do it. You need to _ask_ first. _All_ of you do. Now I have to rewrite all of these pages. Here, let's just . . . let's go do something else before I have to rewrite everything else." Jim stacks his papers neatly and shoves them a bit haphazardly into his bag. "I think you little monsters have some energy you need to get out of your system, huh? How about we play outside for a bit?"

Alexandra perks up and grins. "Can we play ball?"

Jim's relieved that something other than the color black catches her interest. "Sure, we can!"

Her grin widens. "Can Mary be it?"

"Can Mary be what?"

"The ball."

So much for that thought. This is probably worse. "No."

Alexandra's not daunted in the least. "Can Samuel be the ball?"

Jim almost cringes. "No one is going to be the ball. We're playing with a real ball."

She purses her lips. "Fine."

_Ten Minutes Later . . . _

Outside, they're kicking around an old tattered ball that Jim used to play with.

"This isn't a ball. It's a rag," Alexandra complains, kicking it with a huff.

"It's a perfectly fine ball. It used to be my favorite," Jim says as he passes it over to Samuel.

Samuel proceeds to kick it with all of his might. The ball shoots past Jim and rolls speedily on towards the cliff. Jim runs after it. Just as he reaches it near the edge, a gust of wind blasts by.

The ball vanishes over the edge.

" . . . It _used_ to be my favorite," he repeats.

_Forty Minutes Later . . . _

"Mister Jim, can you read minds?" Mary asks with wonder.

Jim looks up from his sketching to the blonde four year old standing in front of him. What an odd question. But then he sees B.E.N. standing in the doorway, giving an exaggerated wink. He looks back at Mary and nods sagely. "Yes. Yes, I can." He widens his eyes as he looks at her. "I know what you are thinking. You are going to ask me what you are thinking right now."

Mary gasps and runs away.

Jim represses the urge to chuckle. Alexandra is watching.

"You can't really read minds," she says with the disdainful glare of an unbelieving toddler.

Jim shrugs. "It doesn't really matter if you believe me or not, but I know that you're the one that hid Samuel's left boot. And I know that you put it in the clogged sink in the kitchen. "

Alexandra gasps and runs after Mary.

Now Jim chuckles.

After their failed game of ball, Jim had quickly improvised a small obstacle course race for them to do. Jim made sure that it involved a _lot_ of running.

Now, the kids are supposed to be reading a story with B.E.N. while Jim works on a surprise for them. They obviously haven't gotten there yet. Jim's planning to modify one of his solar surfers to more of a longboat type (though in this case, you might call it a shortboat). He's currently sketching out some drafts for how best to go about welding the metal scraps together to create a safe enough boat shell so the Doc and Cap'n don't charge him with child endangerment. Lifelines might not be a bad idea either. He scribbles that down on the side. Sure, it'll take the greater part of a couple hours, but hopefully by then the kids would have read their story and taken their nap and not torn the Benbow to shreds with their little claws.

He wonders if their mother has ever taken them out spacing before.

He smiles as he walks out to his little workshop in the shed. Even if she has, he's almost certain they've never had an experience like this. He'll make sure it's one they never, ever forget.

_Four Hours Later . . ._

"Wow! That was awesome!"

"_Please_, Mister Jim, just one more time!"

"No! Two more times!"

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

Jim looked at Mary with a some pity. "Ok, we can go a little more, but let's let Mary out first. She doesn't seem to be enjoying this as much as you guys." He hastily unties Mary and lifts her up out of the boat, handing her to a waiting B.E.N.

"Aww, what's the matter sweetheart?" the robot consoles. "Don't like flying?"

In response, Mary pukes all over him.

"There, there. It's alright now, let's getcha cleaned up."

She pukes again. Bless B.E.N.'s circuit boards for his patience and uncanny ability to be unperturbed by anyone other than himself.

"See ya soon!" Jim calls over his shoulder, and he and his remaining three passengers speed of into the sunset.

One hour later,and Jim's ushering three very thrilled and very tired children into the Benbow. They enter to find Mary curled up and asleep in a blanket on B.E.N.'s lap, who also appears to be dozing.

Samuel's hair is sticking up on end, completely windblown and a tangled mess. The girls aren't faring much better. Jim gives a little sigh and decides he should at least work for his money's worth and get those knots out instead of letting the Doc suffer through it later.

"Alright, keep your voices down. You can rest before your dad comes to pick you up, but I gotta get these knots out of your heads first," Jim motions for them to follow with his hand as he walks to the bathroom to get a brush.

"Can I just cut my hair instead?" Alexandra asks.

Boy, this girl is a handful.

"Nope. Sorry. Hold still." Jim attacks her with the hairbrush.

He's gotta hand it to her though, if any of the kids got the Captain's personality, it's this fireball here. She's as tough as her mom. She's not even flinching as Jim yanks the brush through her red locks. It's almost frightening.

He wonders if he should ask if the Captain's favorite color is black, too.

One more hour later, and a very happy Doctor is at the door to pick up his children.

After the children are carefully and quietly seated in Delilah's carriage, Delbert turns to thank Jim once again and give him his pay.

"Wow, Doc, that's more than I was expecting, are you sure?" Jim's actually hesitant this time. It _is _a lot. At least three times what he would get for cleaning Delilah's stable. Then again, there are four children . . .

The Doctor claps a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Absolutely, Jim. I wouldn't have gotten this lecture down without you. And I'm honestly quite pleased with how it turned out! Let's just hope that the University thinks the same."

"I'm sure they will, Doc. Well, thanks. And, hey, anytime you need a hand, let me know. They're a mischievous little bunch, but I think we all had fun today," Jim smiles, albeit tiredly.

"Don't have to say that twice, Jim! Maybe we'll stop by tomorrow. A little party maybe, to celebrate our . . . er, well, our ability to survive without the women?"

"Our independence?" Jim laughs. "Sure, why not? B.E.N. will love to have something extra to do."

"Alright then! See you tomorrow!"

"See ya." Jim closes the door and heads up to his room.

He's gonna need his sleep.


	25. 033 Expectations

_A/N: I'm sorry I took terribly long this time. Busy with work as always, and I also took a slight hit of the disease known commonly as Writer's Block. Well, good news is, I got something out. Bad news, it's not a part of the Vacation arc. I couldn't come up with anything else clever. I ran out of ideas. That's really why I can't do chapter fics. _

_Anyway, this was one I've been meaning to do for a while. Wrote it in about 20 minutes. I came up with the first lines while working in the fitting room at work today and jotted them down quick. [= I also came up with some ideas for another story I'm thinking about (don't worry Moaboa, I'm working on yours too!): Jim gets a job. :D Kind of an excuse to share all of my crazy experiences that come from the world of retail, but through Jim's eyes I figure it'll be at least somewhat entertaining. What do you think?_

_Depending on the amount of reviews/requests but more importantly the amount of inspiration, I may or may not continue this one. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Treasure Planet._

oOoOoOo

033. Expectations

When Leland Hawkins saw his son standing not ten paces away from him, he had the urge to simultaneously run as far away as possible and to go forward and tap him on the shoulder.

What he did next was neither of those things.

Ten years almost to the date of when Leland walked out on his family, he finds himself back on the same planet that he once felt was a prison. He came here to find peace, because the last few years have been anything but.

Now that he's here, however, he's questioning himself.

Did he really want to do this?

What if Sarah's remarried? What if Jim tries to kill him? What if that isn't really Jim, and his family is long gone?

So when Leland finally makes his decision, to either face his fears or flee them once again, he finds the decision is no longer his to make.

Jim turns around.

Neither one speaks.

Sometimes the eyes say more than words can convey.

But at a certain point, that gets a bit awkward.

Leland figures he owes it to his son to take the burden of being the first to speak.

"I wanted to apologize."

Jim stares long and hard. There's a bit of hesitance in his eyes, a bit of determination in his jaw. But will he forgive his father?

Leland finally looks down, unable to stand under the intense and discerning gaze. He's absolutely sincere, he does want to resolve everything, but is he as sincere as he should be? Does he owe Jim and Sarah more than just an "I'm sorry" and a "can we still be friends?"

Oh, he knows he owes them much more than that.

But can he give that to them?

He was crushed under their expectations once, can he manage to withstand them once again?

He's already here. He's gonna try. And he's gonna give it his best this time.

"It's late. Mom's waiting."

Is that an excuse or an invitation?

The small smile on Jim's lips tells him all he needs to know.


	26. 031 Flowers

**No gift to your mother can ever equal her gift to you - life. -Anonymous**

_Treasure Planet belongs to Disney._

oOoOoOo

031. Flowers

Jim's on the transport home from the Spaceport Crescentia. He's just finished his first semester at the Interstellar Academy, and he's super eager to get home.

And into bed.

Today, the conductor of the transport is a particularly talkative and congenial fellow.

As the transport glides to a halt at one terminal, the conductor cheerily announces, "And here is Libroville. Home to the Montressor Central Library, the largest library on Montressor. They have a spectacular selection for children. And great resources for students, too, for those of you returning home from school."

Jim looks around and notices that there are at least ten other students around the cabin. Three are wearing Interstellar uniforms.

"This is the Meremour Station, where transfers are available to the Montressan Express. Thank you for riding with Crescentian Transit, and have a great day!"

Several passengers exit into the gloomy Montressan afternoon. A couple turn around and wave goodbye, smiling broadly.

Perhaps the conductor/tour guide is doing some good. The day would seem pretty bleak otherwise.

After thirty minutes of a narrated ride, Jim's got a wide grin on his face, trying to contain his laughter. The other passengers seem to have the same predicament. This guy is too entertaining.

"And coming up on the right here is the Fleurnova Grocery. Not only do they have ridiculously great prices, but they have beautiful _flowers_. Fellas, today is Friday. Get off here and pick up your special lady some flowers and let her know how much you love her today."

As the transport nears the Fleurnova, Jim snatches his duffel and knapsack and says a quick "Thank you!" to the conductor before dashing out the door.

"Have a nice day! Go make your lady feel special!" he calls after Jim.

A half hour later, he arrives at his destination, having walked the remaining distance to Benbow. He slowly pushes open the door. The room is packed.

As usual, Sarah is dashing around trying to meet every customer's need, and she doesn't notice the arrival of her long-awaited son.

Jim clears his throat before saying loudly, "Does anyone know if the lovely Mrs. Hawkins is in? Someone's here to see her."

"Jim!" Sarah drops her tray on a table before rushing to her boy.

After a bone-crushing hug, he offers some slightly crunched flowers.

"What's this for?" his mother asks in slight confusion.

Jim grins. "It's Friday."

oOoOoOo

_A/N: Ok, so this one was kind of a pain to write. I give up. I got the idea from my cousin. He came home one day with a rose in his hand for his younger sister. A few days before she had told a story of a bus driver who had done pretty much all of what was detailed above, plus some. Only, it was better and cuter because it was _real._ So I imagined Jim doing something similar. Just because he loves his mom._

_Let me know what you think. I'm so unsatisfied with this one that I may actually rewrite it._


	27. 070 67

**If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you ever tried. -Anonymous**

_Treasure Planet belongs to Disney._

oOoOoOo

_070. 67%_

"A sixty-seven. _Sixty-seven,_" Amelia can't believe it. She'd studied all night long for that test, she'd given up game time and the solarsurfing race and _sleep_ to study for that test.

And she gets a sixty-seven.

This is _not_ gonna fly.

Angrily shoving the test paper into her notebook, furiously jamming the notebook into her satchel, and ferociously throwing her satchel over her shoulder (or, as ferociously as she can, anyway), Amelia stands ramrod straight and marches out of the classroom.

Professor Higgins had dismissed class early today, claiming that many students had impressed him with their high test scores and they didn't have anything new to cover until Monday. So they had the weekend free to work on other classes and party and play sports and do whatever it was that students did these days.

But Amelia isn't going to do any of that.

Amelia is not an academic by any means. She does not dream in mathematical formulas. She does not revel in complex equations. She cannot bear to listen to professors drone on and on about the intricacies of the star systems of the depths of a planet's core.

No.

Put her out there in the vast Etherium or an uncharted planet and let her see it, feel it, _experience_ it for herself. To navigate, to discover, and to fight for survival. _That _ is what she considers to be worth learning.

But that does not mean that she will not get an A in every single one of her classes.

Excellence means doing your best at everything, and as Amelia strives for excellence, so she also strives for putting her absolute utmost efforts into her classwork.

And this grade, this _sixty-seven percentage grade_, is _not_ indicative of that.

So upon reaching her dormitory, Amelia slams shut her room door and bolts it. No one will be disturbing her today. Her roommate can crawl through the air vent for all she cares. She turns on her audiphone to the highest volume and blasts a symphony by Mortzhoven. She pulls down the shades and lights the lamp on her desk. She sits down, slams a heavy textbook down, opens it, and begins to study.

She _will _get an A on her next Astrophysics test.


	28. 023 Cat

_A/N: I am terribly sorry for the long wait. Alas, not only do I have a severe case of writer's block, but I've been a tad busy. I'm also trying to cut down on the time I spend on FFN and dA, so y'know . . . _

_This one's different . . . it's the Doctor's POV! At the beginning of the movie . . . ;D I had soo much fun. Though it's short, I know. Review, and you may just get more._

_I do not own Treasure Planet._

oOoOoOo

023. Cat

So far, everything is incredible. It's just as I pictured it would be.

The Etherium is bright and clear, manta birds are squawking their glorious clamor. And the ship! Oh my, it's simply spectacular. I couldn't have asked for anything better!

The crew looks a bit unprofessional, though, but I'm sure the Captain can take care of that just fine.

Speaking of whom, that must be him! I walk up to a large Cragorian with a tricorn hat. This fellow looks like he can get a job done! He's of a powerful build and his face has that "you mess with me and I mess you up" sort of look to it.

Yes, this will do just fine.

"Good morning, Captain!" I say jovially, hoping to make a good and friendly first impression. "Everything ship-shape?"

The Cragorian turns to me and gives a slight smirk. Oh, dear, I hope it's not the space-suit. . . "Ship-shape it is, sir, but I'm not the Captain. The Captain's aloft."

I can't believe my ears! If this fine specimen of a spacer isn't the Captain, I can't imagine his superior! He must be spectacular, indeed . . .

I follow the sight of the large spacer to find a blur up in the sails.

A lithe creature lands on the deck.

A cat.

The Captain's a cat.

_She's_ a cat.

What in the galaxy have I done?


	29. 027 Foreign

_A/N: Well, after disappearing off of the face of the earth, here is a tiny little update for you all. Sorry, I suppose it must seem horribly unfair. But I've been incredibly busy and this is my Spring Break and I've spent most of it observing for my education credits, but one day, one day, hopefully, I will finish this. Feel free to pm me. :) I'll get it through my email, but I can't really update when school's in session. :( I'll be back in summer though!_

_As a sort of preface to this one, I'm sorry in advance. It's not that great but I just wanted to update to let you all know I'm alive. Takes place right after "Pain."_

* * *

_0.27 Foreign_

Katherine Amelia Smollet has always been prepared.

On the first day of kindergarten, she was in her seat, prim and proper, ten minutes before the bell rang, all five pencils neatly arranged at the top, right hand corner of the desk, perfectly sharpened. Her eraser, sharpener, ruler, and protractor were all similarly organized.

They used crayons the first day.

But needless to say, she was still prepared.

Such has been the case all of her life. She has never been caught unawares. She is ever ready for anything. And usually, more than ready.

Even when she found out that a voyage was being undertaken to discover the lost world of Treasure Planet, Amelia was not too terribly shocked. Life had taught her to expect the unexpected, and she was prepared for almost anything that was thrown at her. She'd taken voyages to find pet Zooba monkeys in the next galaxy over, when the thing had died twenty years ago underneath the owner's bed.

You can't surprise Amelia with anything more ridiculous.

Even when she met the voyage's financier, Amelia couldn't say she was too shocked. Exasperated with ignorant, bumbling and irritating employers, perhaps. But shocked, no. She could handle it.

Even, to her own surprise, when Arrow was lost, she was prepared enough that she could still resume her duties as a captain. It wasn't an enjoyable experience, to say the least, but it didn't deter the voyage either.

And when the crew turned out to be a lot of criminals, she had a stock of weaponry hidden away just in the case of an event such as this.

Yes, Amelia Smollet was ready for almost anything.

But in the face of pure, complete, and unadulterated pain, in the midst of total and utter helplessness, Amelia feels ruined. There is nothing in her arsenal of knowledge, experience, and quick quips that can rescue her reputation and save face.

Now, she is nothing but a female, a _girl_, a weak and immobilized and helpless _infant_ . . .

This experience is one that is completely foreign to her.

She is not prepared.

And she does not like it one bit.


	30. 041 Teamwork

_A/N: Thanks for your reviews! Yes, I AM alive, never doubt that. But I'm going to hibernate again, but you can still review! I'll get them in email! :D They brighten my day. _

_Seems I'm in an Amelia mood. This is pre-movie, during the Procyon Wars._

_I do not own Treasure Planet._

* * *

_041. Teamwork_

In the face of opposition, Amelia had always been alone.

Growing up, her brothers never let her solarsurf or spacedive or even laserball with them- girls weren't allowed.

Her sisters stayed far away from her- Amelia was too grungy and rough and not pretty enough to even look at, let alone talk to.

Her mother couldn't understand her. Why a girl would choose to look and act the way that her daughter did worried her at first, until it became disturbance and revulsion. The typical words she would say to her child were "stop," "no," and "go change your clothes."

Her father had been nice enough. He would let her tag along with him to do odd jobs whenever he was home. When he was home. But one day he came home in a casket.

In the Academy, Amelia was teased for her boyishness, stoicism, perfectionism, and antisocial tendencies.

In the Navy, those same sentiments were magnified exponentially.

In the face of opposition, Amelia had always stood alone.

Until now.

"I've got your back," Arrow says from behind her.

She turns her head slightly, his back is to her, rifle raised.

Her own rifle is out of commission, but she's got a laser pistol charged and aimed with maybe around a dozen shots left; her knife is a flick away in her boot.

They're surrounded on all sides by Procyon soldiers. She doesn't quite understand how they came to this exact situation, but it doesn't matter now anyway.

She's fighting to the death.

And she's not alone.

Together, they can do this.


	31. 077 Test

_A/N: Hey all! Long time no see! Well, this was on a whim. Just finished my last project for the school year, so I'm rather relieved. Glad I don't have to experience the feelings in this chapter for another few months. ;)_

_Takes place post-movie, in the Academy. Dontchya love dem dorm dayz..._

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_077. Test; or Panic!_

Jim opens his eyes.

Artificial light paints the room in an odd greenish shade.

The faint sound of water running is heard from across the hall.

Jim closes his eyes.

"Boo," he mumbles and slaps a hand to his face.

Terence beat him to the shower.

But wait…if Terence is up, that means that it must be almost time for…

The five minute bell echoes down the metallic hallway.

Terence is always cutting it close.

Jim never wakes up this late.

Jim has a test in less than five minutes.

And he hasn't studied.

Because he was helping _Terence_ with his Solar Engineering Midterm Prototype Project until five in the morning.

Jim bolts up from his bed—

Whamming his skull right into the metal bunk above.

Staggering, he makes his way to his closet and finds a semi-clean uniform to throw on.

They're all wrinkled.

He picks the one that doesn't look like a used tissue and pulls it on.

It's inside out.

He fixes it and runs back to the bed, hastily makes it (he has too many demerits right now to let this slide), grabs his knapsack—

Everything spills out.

He shoves everything back in, crumpling his neatly written homework in the process, and looks for his shoes.

He finds one.

He takes a pair of Terence's, puts them on—without socks—realizes how gross that is and grabs a pair of socks from Terence's drawers.

He throws them in his bag. The shoes are already on, he'll wait till he's in class to bother.

Terence comes in the room.

"Thanks for the shoes, bud," Jim runs out of the room, across the hall, into the bathroom, swipes a comb through his mane, pulls out a chunk of hair in the process, growls, grabs a toothbrush, applies toothpaste, shoots toothpaste in his eye, brushes his teeth, jams the toothbrush into his gum, yells, rinses his mouth, runs out of the bathroom, down the hall, up the stairs, down another hall, down some stairs, down another hall, throws open a door, and walks calmly to his seat.

Once seated, he hastily takes out his notebook, scans the pages for anything that might be necessary.

Like, all of it.

"Clear your desks."

Jim sighs.

And opens his eyes.

He's still in bed.

The lights are off.

There's no sound of running water.

He looks at the clock.

It's three a.m.

He laughs.

He's not helping Terence with a project.

And he doesn't have a test at eight a.m.

Jim goes back to sleep.


	32. 013 Misfortune

**Jimbo made the wrong choice. -Silver**

_A/N: As per request, this one's on Silver. Takes place on Treasure Planet, in the longboat on the way to the trove. Silver's thoughts...as twisted and blinded by greed as they can get. (No worries, I like Silver, so maybe I'll write one to redeem him a bit. Lol.)_

_And just a quick comment to THANK YOU ALL for all the lovely and precious reviews. Sorry I don't address each one (um...we're almost at a hundred, that would take a while ;) but I do read and appreciate them all! Seriously. Keep them coming! For those of you who write, you know how inspiring and rewarding they are, and for those of you who don't...well...write a story and you'll know what I mean! So...review! ...please? =)_

_Disclaimer: I hereby state that any references to Treasure Planet characters, instances, or scenes are completely on purpose and are used for the purpose of entertainment and hopefully enjoyment alone. No profit is being made off of this work of pure fiction and no characters were harmed in the making of this chapter. The author has no rights to the movie Treasure Planet, as it belongs to the Walt Disney Corporation. Have a nice day._

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013. Misfortune

It's so close, he can practically hear them _clink, clink, clink_ against each other, he can see them glistening in his eye, he can _feel_ them running and spilling through his fingers.

It's so close.

He can't wait.

After all that he has been through, after all that he has _suffered _and _bled _and _killed _for, at this moment he has never felt so fortunate, so lucky, and so _deserving_.

That treasure is his.

As he looks at the young lad standing slightly slumped in defeat next to him, he smiles grimly.

It was unfortunate that it had to turn out this way.

If Jimbo had just been cooperative, things could have turned out so _differently_.

He liked the lad, he really did, and to he honest (within the deep private recesses of his own black heart alone would he admit this), he had a wee bit of a soft spot for the boy who reminded him so much of himself when he was younger.

But Jimbo made the wrong choice.

Silver shakes his head a little.

The boy messed up. He's lucky to still be alive to at least see the treasure, but Silver can't make any promises about what's going to happen after all this is over.

Silver narrows his eye, his good hand balls into a fist.

The boy's fate really isn't the issue right now, and it's not that much of an issue at all anyway.

The issue is the _loot of a thousand worlds_, and it's _so close._

He can't wait.


	33. 075 Mirror

_A/N: I have not forgotten about this nor you dear readers! And it's almost 100 reviews! The 100th reviewer gets to have the next chapter dedicated to them! Idk, it might not mean much, but wow, a hundred reviews, I never thought I could come close to that. It's the least I can do. So thank you dear readers, and especially my dear reviewers. :) Love you all. _

_I hope this one kinda redeems Silver a bit. It took a while to get it the way I wanted it, and I know it doesn't necessarily give you all fuzzy feelings, but I tried to make it realistic. If you're unsatisfied, don't sue me. I'm in debt already. Student loans, man. Smh._

_Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim any ownership of anything within the realm of Treasure Planet. Yada yada yada._

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075. Mirror

When Silver looked at Jim, he felt as though he was looking in a mirror.

The slight smirk and cocky look he gets sometimes when he does something right, the lai back and almost lazy personality combined with a strike of raw adventurism and spontaneous ingenuity, the untamed spirit inside- daring to go against all the suppositions and superstitions of society, rebelling against all rules and restrictions and following what his heart tells him.

When Silver looked at Jim, he felt as though he was looking in a mirror.

But that mirror shattered.

The smirk and cocky look are gone from Jim's face - replaced with a broken demeanor: everything he had hoped for in this voyage had fallen to pieces, and now Silver was leaving, too. Though how the boy could still care even after all that Silver had done to him was beyond even his imagination. But yet there remains that sliver of hope inside the boy, a spark in his eyes that can kindle a wildfire. His cocky look is gone, but Silver still wears his as he descends in the longboat to make his getaway.

Jim's lazy, laid back demeanor is gone too - and in is stead is an uncontrollable supernova of energy, craving for more adventure and excitement, and yet eager to return home to help his mother. The ingenuity is still there, but it has a different purpose. Where before it was simply for Jim's own satisfaction of making his mark on the galaxy, now it is for something bigger. Having come so close to staring certain death in the face, Jim is concerned fir more than just living a life of fun and adventure. He had managed to save an entire crew. What else could he possibly do? What potential does he have?

And Silver? He's still finding his way into danger and out of trouble, willing to work hard for what he wants but acting as though he could care less if he got it. Like right now. He is desperate to escape and live to see another day, but he'd played it off as looking out for Morph's well being. Of course, Jim has learned to see through his acts by now.

The untamed spirit is no longer wild. Not "tame" . . . but controlled. Silver liked to think that he himself was composed, but he know what happened as soon as they discovered Treasure Planet and afterwards is a clear indicaton of otherwise. Silver might be ableto hide his tember and his black hearted, pirating spirit, but it'll come out eventually, in the worst of situations.

Silver had followed his black heart, and look at where that got him. A pirate, a cyborg, and now his latest attempt at freedom from the law that reaches for his neck.

And this lad here's gonna go to school to be an officer of that law

Silver shakes his head.

No, it was a good thing he couldn't see into that mirror anymore. Jim had his own life to live, his own courses to chart, and Silver knows that the boy will turn out to be nothing like him.

James Hawkins has a heart of gold.


End file.
